The Watchers of the Plains: A Tale of the Western Prairies

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XX

  SETH PAYS

  As the weeks crept by and the torrid heat toned down to the delightfultemperature of the Indian summer, news began to reach White River Farmfrom England. After the first excitement of her arrival had worn off,Rosebud settled down to a regular correspondence.

  Even her return to the scenes of her childhood in no way aided her memory.It was all new to her. As her letters often said, though she knew she wasgrown up, yet, as far as memory served her, she was still only six yearsold. Servants who had nursed her as a baby, who had cared for her as achild of ten, aunts who had lavished childish presents upon her, cousinswho had played with her, they were all strangers, every one.

  So she turned with her confidences to those she knew;--those old people onthe prairie of Dakota, and that man who had been everything to her. Tothese she wrote by every mail, giving details of the progress of affairs,telling them of her new life, of her pleasures, her little worries, neverforgetting that Ma and Pa were still her mother and father.

  Thus they learned that the lawyer's prophecies had been fulfilled.Rosebud was in truth her father's heiress. The courts were satisfied, andshe was burdened with heritage under certain conditions of the will. Theseconditions she did not state, probably a girlish oversight in the rush ofevents so swiftly passing round her.

  The winter stole upon the plains; that hard, relentless winter which knowsno yielding till spring drives it forth. First the fierce black frosts,then the snow, and later the shrieking blizzard, battling, tearing forpossession of the field, carrying death in its breath for belated man andbeast, and sweeping the snow into small mountains about the lonely prairiedwellings as though, in its bitter fury at the presence of man, it wouldbury them out of sight where its blast proved powerless to destroy them.Christmas and New Year were past, that time of peace and festivity whichis kept up wherever man sojourns, be it in city or on the plains.

  Through these dark months Seth and Rube worked steadily on building theirstockade, hauling the logs, cutting, splitting, joining. The weather madeno difference to them. The fiercest storm disturbed them no further thanto cause them to set a life-line from house to barn, or to their work,wherever that might be. No blizzard could drive them within doors whenwork was to be done. This was the life they knew, they had always lived,and they accepted it uncomplainingly, just as they accepted the fruits ofthe earth in their season.

  No warning sound came from the Indians. The settlers forgot the recentepisode, forgot the past, which is the way of human nature, and lived inthe present only, and looked forward happily to the future.

  Seth and Rube minded their own affairs. They were never the ones to croak.But their vigilance never relaxed. Seth resumed his visits to theReservation as unconcernedly as though no trouble had ever occurred. Hewent on with his Sunday work at the Mission, never altering his tactics byone iota. And in his silent way he learned all that interested him.

  He learned of Little Black Fox's protracted recovery, his lately developedmoroseness. He knew whenever a council of chiefs took place, and much ofwhat passed on these occasions. The presence of Nevil Steyne at suchmeetings was a matter which never failed to interest him. He was rarelyseen in the company of the Agent, yet a quiet understanding existedbetween them, and he frequently possessed news which only Parker couldhave imparted.

  So it was clearly shown that whatever the general opinion of the settlers,Seth, and doubtless Rube also, had their own ideas on the calm of thosewinter months, and lost no opportunity of verifying them.

  New Year found the ponderous stockade round the farm only a little morethan half finished in spite of the greatest efforts. Rube had hoped forbetter results, but the logs had been slow in forthcoming. The fewIndians who would work in the winter had been scarcer this year, and, inspite of the Agent, whose duty it was to encourage his charges inaccepting and carrying out remunerative labor, the work had been veryslow.

  At Rube's suggestion it was finally decided to seek white labor in BeaconCrossing. It was more expensive, but it was more reliable. When once thenew project had been put into full working order it was decided to abandonthe Indian labor altogether.

  With this object in view Seth went across to the Reservation to consultParker. He was met by the Agent's sister. Her brother was out, but sheexpected him home to dinner, which would be in the course of half anhour.

  "He went off with Jim Crow," the amiable spinster told her visitor. "Wentoff this morning early. He said he was going over to the Pine RidgeAgency. But he took Jim Crow with him, and hadn't any idea of going untilthe scout came."

  Seth ensconsed himself in an armchair and propped his feet up on the steelbars of a huge wood stove.

  "Ah," he said easily. "Guess there's a deal for him to do, come winter.With your permission I'll wait."

  Miss Parker was all cordiality. No man, in her somewhat elderly eyes, wasmore welcome than Seth. The Agent's sister had once been heard to say, ifthere was a man to be compared with her brother in the whole country itwas Seth. She only wondered he'd escaped being married out of hand by oneof the town girls, as she characterized the women of Beacon Crossing. Butthen she was far more prejudiced in favor of Seth than her own sex.

  "He'll be glad, Seth," she said at once; "James is always partial to achat with you. You just make yourself comfortable right there. I've got aboil of beef and dumplings on, which I know you like. You'll stay and havefood?"

  "I take that real friendly," said Seth, smiling up into the plain, honestface before him. "Guess I'll have a pipe and a warm while you're fixin'things."

  Somehow Miss Parker found herself retiring to her kitchen again before shehad intended it.

  During the next half hour the hostess found various excuses for invadingthe parlor where Seth was engaged in his promised occupation. Shegenerally had some cheery, inconsequent remark to pass. Seth gave herlittle encouragement, but he was always polite. At last the dinner wasserved, and, sharp to time, Jimmy Parker returned. He came by himself, andblustered into the warm room bringing with him that brisk atmosphere ofthe outside cold which, in winter, always makes the inside of a house onthe prairie strike one as a perfect haven of comfort. He greeted Sethcordially as he shook the frost from his fur-coat collar, and gentlyreleased his moustache from its coating of ice.

  Seth deferred his business until after dinner. He never liked talkingbusiness before womenfolk. And Miss Parker, like most of her sex in thedistrict, was likely to exaggerate the importance of any chance hint aboutthe Indians dropped in her presence. So the boil of silverside anddumplings was discussed to the accompaniment of a casual conversationwhich was chiefly carried on by the Agent's sister. At length the two menfound themselves alone, and their understanding of each other was exampledby the prompt inquiry of Parker.

  "Well?" he questioned. Seth settled himself in his chair and, from forceof habit, spread his hands out to the fire.

  "We're finishing our job with white labor," he said. Then as anafterthought, "Y' see we want to git things fixed 'fore spring opens."

  The Agent nodded.

  "Just so," he said.

  The beads on his moccasins had much interest for Seth at the moment.

  "I'd never gamble a pile on Injuns' labor," he remarked indifferently.Parker laughed.

  "No. It would be a dead loss--just now."

  Seth looked round inquiringly.

  "I was wondering when you would give them up," the Agent went on. "I'vehad a great deal of difficulty keeping them at it. And we're liable, Ithink, to have more."

  The last was said very gravely.

  "Kind o' how we've figgered right along?" Seth asked.

  "Yes."

  The two men relapsed into silence for a while, and smoked on. At last Sethspoke with the air of a man who has just finished reviewing matters ofimportance in his mind.

  "We've taken in the well in fixin' that corral."

  "Good. We've got no well here."

  "No."

  "I was over at Pine Ridge t
o-day."

  "That's what your sister said."

  "I went for two reasons. Jim Crow has smelt out preparations forSun-dances. We can't locate where they are going to be held, or when. Iwent over to consult Jackson, and also to see how he's getting on overthere. He's having the same trouble getting the Indians to look at anywork. Little Black Fox is about again. Also he sees a heap too much ofthat white familiar of his, Nevil Steyne. By Jove, I wish we could fixsomething on that man and get the government to deport him. He's got agreat sway over the chief. What the devil is his object?" Jimmy Parker'sface flushed under his exasperation.

  "I'd give a heap to git a cinch on him," Seth replied thoughtfully. "He'ssmart. His tracks are covered every time. Howsum, if things git doin' thisspring, I've a notion we'll run him down mebbe--later."

  The Agent was all interest.

  "Have you discovered anything?"

  "Wal--nothin' that counts your way. It's jest personal, 'tween him an'me."

  The other laughed cheerfully.

  "Couldn't be better," he exclaimed. "I'd sooner it depended on you than onthe government."

  Seth let the tribute pass.

  "We must locate them Sun-dances," he said.

  "Yes. We've got troops enough to stop them."

  "Troops?--pshaw!"

  Seth rose. Parker understood his last remark. The presence of troops hadlong since been discussed between them. The visitor moved toward the door,and the Agent went to his desk. At the door Seth turned as some thoughtoccurred to him.

  "Guess I'd not report anything yet. Not till the Sun-dances are located.I'll git around some." He slipped into his fur coat and turned up thestorm collar.

  Parker nodded.

  "Keep a smart eye for yourself, Seth," he said. "Little Black Fox isn'tlikely to forget. Especially with Steyne around."

  Seth smiled faintly.

  "And Steyne 'll kind o' remember, sure." He passed out and left his sturdyfriend wondering.

  "I'd give something to know," that individual said to himself, when thesound of horse's hoofs had died out. "Seth's dead against Steyne, and I'dlike to bet it's over Rosebud."

  The object of the Agent's thoughts passed unconcernedly on his way. Hebranched off the ford trail intending to make for the bridge, below whichhis men were cutting the timbers for the corral. His way was remote fromthe chief encampment, and not a single Indian showed himself.

  The skeleton woods that lined the trail gave a desolate air to the bleak,white prospect. The whole of that northern world offered little promise tothe traveler, little inducement to leave the warmth of house or tepee.

  As the horseman neared the bridge he paused to listen. Something of hisattitude communicated itself to his horse. The animal's ears were laidback, and it seemed to be listening to some sound behind it. Whatever hadattracted master and horse must have been very faint.

  A moment later Seth let the horse walk on and the animal appeared content.But if the animal were so, its master was not. He turned several times ashe approached the bridge, and scanned the crowding branches on each sideof the snow-covered trail behind him.

  Seth knew that he was followed. More, he knew that the watcher was clumsy,and had not the stealth of the Indian. At the bridge he faced about andsat waiting. The gravity of his face was relieved by a slight smile.

  Suddenly the crack of a rifle rang out. The horseman's smile diedabruptly. His horse reared, pawing the air, and he saw blood on thebeast's shoulder. He saw that the flesh had been ripped by a glancingbullet, and the course of the wound showed him whence the shot had come.

  He looked for the man who had fired, and, as he did so, another shot rangout. He reeled forward in his saddle, but straightened up almost at once,and his right hand flew to his revolver, while he tried to swing his horseabout. But somehow he had lost power, and the horse was in a frenzy ofterror. The next moment the beast was racing across the bridge in thedirection of home.

  The journey was made at a great pace. Seth was sitting bolt upright. Hisface was ashen, and his eyelids drooped in spite of his best efforts.

  Rube was in the region of the kitchen door as he galloped up, and hecalled out a greeting.

  The rider began to reply. But, at that moment, the horse propped andhalted, and the reply was never finished. Seth rolled out of the saddleand fell to the ground like a log.