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

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THE CAPITULATION

  "I'd like to know how it's all going to end."

  Mrs. Rickards drew a deep sigh of perplexity and looked helplessly over atMa, who was placidly knitting at her husband's bedside. The farmwife'sbright face had lost nothing of its comeliness in spite of the anxietiesthrough which she had so recently passed. Her twinkling eyes shonecheerily through her glasses, and the ruddy freshness of her complexionwas still fair to see. A line or two, perhaps, had deepened about hermouth, and the grayness of her hair may have become a shade whiter. Butthese things were hardly noticeable.

  The change in Rosebud's aunt was far more pronounced. She had taken toherself something of the atmosphere of the plains-folk in the few weeks ofher stay at the farm. And the subtle change had improved her.

  Rube was mending fast, and the two older women now spent all their sparetime in his company.

  Ma looked up from her work.

  "Rube an' me have been discussin' it," she said. "Guess we've settled toleave the farm, an' buy a new place around some big city. I don't rightlyknow how the boy 'll take it. Y' see, Seth's mighty hard to change, an'he's kind o' fixed on this place. Y' see, he's young, an' Rube an' me'shad a longish spell. We'd be pleased to take it easy now. Eh, old man?"

  Ma glanced affectionately at the mighty figure filling up the bed. The mannodded.

  "Y' see, things don't seem hard till you see your old man's bloodrunnin'," she went on. "Then--well, I guess I ain't no more stummick ferfight. I'd be thankful to God A'mighty to end my days peaceful."

  Mrs. Rickards nodded sympathetically.

  "You're quite wise," she said. "It seems to me you've earned a rest. Thecourage and devotion of all you dear people out here have been a wonderfuleducation to me. Do you know, Mrs. Sampson, I never knew what life reallymeant until I came amongst you all. The hope, and love, and sympathy onthis prairie are something to marvel at. I can understand a young girl'sdesire to return to it after once having tasted it. Even for me it has itsfascinations. The claims of civilization fall from one out here in amanner that makes me wonder. I don't know yet but that I shall remain fora while and see more of it."

  Ma smiled and shook her head at the other's enthusiasm.

  "There's a heap worth living for out here, I guess. But----"

  "Yes. I know what you would say. A time comes when you want rest for mindand body. I wonder," Mrs. Rickards went on thoughtfully, "if Seth everwants rest and peace? I don't think it. What a man!"

  She relapsed into silent admiration of the man of whom she was speaking.Ma noted her look. She understood the different place Seth now occupied inthis woman's thoughts.

  "But I was not thinking about the affairs of this farm and the Indians somuch as something else," Mrs. Rickards went on presently, smiling from Mato Rube and back again at Ma.

  The farmwife laid her knitting aside. She understood the other's meaning,and this was the first mention of it between them. Even Rube had turnedhis head and his deep-set eyes were upon the "fine lady."

  "Yes, I was thinking of Seth and Rosebud," she went on earnestly. "Youknow that Rosebud----"

  Ma nodded.

  "Seth's ter'ble slow," she said slyly.

  "Do you think he's----"

  "Sure." The two women looked straight into each other's eyes, which smiledas only old women's eyes can smile when they are speaking of that which isthe greatest matter of their lives.

  "I know how she regards him," Mrs. Rickards went on. "And I tell youfrankly, Mrs. Sampson, I was cordially opposed to it--when I came here.Even now I am not altogether sure it's right by the girl's deadfather--but----"

  "But----?" Ma's face was serious while she waited for the other to go on.

  "But--but--well, if I was a girl, and could get such a man as Seth for ahusband, I should be the proudest woman in the land."

  "An' you'd be honored," put in Rube, speaking for the first time.

  Mrs. Rickards laughingly nodded.

  Ma sighed.

  "Guess Seth has queer notions. Mighty queer. I 'low, knowin' him as I do,I could say right here that that boy 'ud ask her right off, only fer herfriends an' her dollars. He's a foolhead, some."

  Mrs. Rickards laughed again.

  "In England these things are usually an inducement," she saidsignificantly.

  "Seth's a man," said Ma with some pride. "Seth's real honest, an'--an',far be it for me to say it, he's consequent a foolhead. What's dollarswhen folks love? Pshaw! me an' Rube didn't think o' no dollars."

  "Guess we hadn't no dollars to think of, Ma," murmured Rube in a ponderousaside.

  "Wal? An' if we had?" Ma smiled defiantly at her "old man."

  "Wal, mebbe we'd 'a' tho't of 'em."

  The farmwife turned away in pretended disgust.

  "And you don't think anything will come of it?" suggested Mrs. Rickards,taking the opportunity of returning to the matter under discussion.

  Ma's eyes twinkled.

  "Ther' ain't no sayin'," she said. "Mebbe it's best left to Rosie." Sheglanced again at her sick husband. "Y' see, men mostly has notions, an'some are ter'ble slow. But they're all li'ble to act jest so, ef thewoman's the right sort. Guess it ain't no use in old folks figgerin' outfer young folks. The only figgerin' that counts is what they do ferthemselves."

  "I believe you're right," responded Mrs. Rickards, wondering where thefarmwife had acquired her fund of worldly wisdom. Ma's gentle shrewdnessovershadowed any knowledge she had acquired living the ordinary sociallife that had been hers in England.

  Ma's worldly wisdom, however, was all on the surface. She knew Seth, andshe knew Rosebud. She had watched their lives with loving eyes, promptedby a great depth of sympathy. And all she had seen had taught her thatboth were capable of managing their own affairs, and, for the rest, heroptimism induced the belief that all would come right in the end. And itwas out of this belief she reassured her new-made friend.

  Meanwhile the little blind god was carrying on his campaign with all thecunning and crushing strategy for which he is justly renowned. There is nopower such as his in all the world. What he sets out to do he accomplisheswith a blissful disregard for circumstances. Where obstacles refuse tomelt at his advance, he adopts the less comfortable, but none the lesseffective, manner of breaking through them. And perhaps he saw thenecessity of some such course in the case of Seth and Rosebud. Anyway, hewas not beaten yet.

  The last of the refugees had left the farm. Seth had been assisting in thedeparture of the various families. It was a sad day's work, and no onerealized the pathos of it more than the silent plainsman. He had given hislittle all to the general welfare, but he had been incapable of saving thehomes that had been built up with so much self-denial, so much thrift. Allhe could do was to wish the departing folk Godspeed with an accompanimentof cheery words, which, perhaps, may have helped to lighten the burden ofsome of them. The burden he knew was a heavy one in all cases, but heavierin some than others, for Death had claimed his toll, and at such a timethe tax fell doubly heavy.

  It was over. He had just seen the last wagon drop below the horizon. Nowhe turned away with a sigh and surveyed the ruin around him. He walkedfrom place to place, inspecting each outbuilding with a measuring eye.There were weeks of labor before him, and all labor that would return noprofit. It was a fitting conclusion to a sad day's work.

  But he was not given to morbid sentiment, and as he inspected each resultof the siege he settled in his mind the order of the work as it must bedone. A setback like this had only a stimulating effect on his spirit.The summer lay before him, and he knew that by winter he could haveeverything restored to order.

  At the barn he made the horses snug for the night, and then, taking up hisfavorite position on the oat-bin at the open doorway, lit his pipe for aquiet think. He was wholly responsible while Rube was ill.

  Sitting there in the golden light of the setting sun, he was presentlydisturbed by the approach of light footsteps. It was an unusually gayvoice that g
reeted him when he looked up, and eyes that were brighter, andmore deeply violet than ever.

  Had he given thought to these things he might have realized that there wassomething artificial in Rosebud's manner, something that told of unusualexcitement going on in her bosom. But then Seth, with all his keenness inother things, was not the cleverest of men where women were concerned.Ma's opinion of him was wonderfully accurate.

  "Oh, Seth, I just came to tell you! Fancy, no sooner is one excitementover than another begins. I've just learned that Pa and Ma are going togive up this farm. We are going further west, out of the Indian territory,and Rube's going to buy a new farm near some city. Just fancy. What do youthink of it?"

  For once Seth seemed taken aback. His usual imperturbable manner forsookhim, and he stared at the girl in unfeigned astonishment. This was thelast thing he had expected.

  "We're quittin' the farm?" he cried incredulously.

  "That's precisely it," Rosebud nodded, thoroughly enjoying the other'sblank manner.

  "Gee! I hadn't tho't of it."

  The girl broke into a laugh, and Seth, after smiling faintly in response,relapsed into serious thought. Rosebud eyed him doubtfully for somemoments.

  "You're not glad," she said presently, with a wise little nod. "You're notglad. You don't want to go. You love this place and what you've helped tomake it. I know. So do I."

  The man nodded, and his dark face grew graver.

  "This is our home, isn't it?" the girl continued, after a pause. "Justlook round. There's the new barn. I remember when you and Pa built it. Iused to hold the wood while you sawed, and made you angry because I alwaystried to make you cut it crooked--and never succeeded. I was very smallthen. There's the old barn. We use it for cows now. And do you rememberwhen you pulled down the old granary, and built the new one in the shapeof an elevator? And do you remember, Ma wouldn't speak to us for a wholeday because we pulled the old hen-roost to pieces and established the hogsthere? She said it was flying in the face of Providence having the smellyold things so near the house. And now we're going to leave it all. We'refarmers, aren't we, Seth? But Pa is going in for cattle."

  "Cattle?" exclaimed Seth.

  "Yes. But I'd rather that than another grain farm after this one. I don'tthink I could ever like another grain farm so well as this."

  Rosebud had seated herself at Seth's feet, with her back to him so that hecould not see her face. She was dressed in a simple dark gown that madeher look very frail. Her golden hair was arranged in a great loose knot atthe nape of her neck from which several unruly strands had escaped. Sethnoted these things even though his eyes wandered from point to point asshe indicated the various objects to which she was drawing his attention.

  "Yes, it is home, sure, Rosie," he said at last, as she waited for hisanswer. "Yes, it's home, sure. Yours an' mine."

  There was a long pause. Rosebud leant against Seth's knees; and presentlyshe raised one arm till her elbow rested upon them. Then she supported herhead upon her hand.

  "But I think it's right to go; Ma and Rube are getting old. They wantrest. Rube's got a goodish bit of capital, too," she went on, with analmost childish assumption of business knowledge. "And so have you. Nowhow much will buy a nice ranch?"

  The girl had faced round and was gazing up into Seth's face with all thebland innocence of childhood in her wide open eyes. The gravity she beheldthere was profound.

  "Wal, I'd say around twenty thousand dollars. Y' see, stockin' it's heavy.But Rube wouldn't think o' that much. Mebbe he'd buy a goodish place an'raise the stock himself. I 'lows it's a money-makin' game--is stock. It'sa good business."

  Seth had gained some enthusiasm while he spoke, and the girl was quick tonotice the change.

  "I believe you're beginning to fancy the notion," she said, with a brightflash of her eyes.

  "Mebbe."

  Seth's reply was half shamefaced. Rosebud removed her arm from his kneesand turned away, idly drawing vague outlines upon the dusty ground withher forefinger. She was smiling too. It was partly a mischievous smile,and yet there was something very nervous about it. She was thinking,thinking, and found it very hard to say what she wanted to.

  "I wonder if you'd help me to do something I want to do very much?" sheasked at last. "Something very, very particular?"

  "Why, sure," was the ready answer. "That's how it's allus bin."

  "Yes, I know. It's always been like that. But this is something muchharder." Rosebud smiled a little wistfully into the strong face aboveher.

  "You ken gamble on me."

  "Of course I can. I know that."

  Another silence fell. The girl continued to draw outrageous parallelogramsin the dust. Seth smoked on, waiting for her. The last rays of the settingsun were shining athwart the golden head which his dark eyes werecontemplating.

  "You see, I want to buy Pa and Ma the finest ranch in Montana," she saidat last. "You see, I've got lots of money," she went on, laughingnervously. "At least I shall have. I'm rather selfish, too, because I'mgoing to live with them, always, you know. And I'd like to live on aranch. Pa could own it, and you could be foreman and partner. And--and Icould be partner too. Quite a business arrangement. Pa and you would work.That's your share of the capital. I should only find the money, and donothing. You see? I talked it over with--er--some one, and they said thatwas quite a business arrangement, and thought I was rather clever."

  Seth removed his pipe and cleared his throat. Rosebud had not dared tolook at him while putting forward her scheme. Her heart was beating soloudly, that it seemed to her he must hear it.

  "Wal," he said slowly, "it's not a bad notion in some ways, Rosie. Ther'sjest the matter o' myself wrong. I 'lows you'd make a han'some return toRube an' Ma. Guess you needn't to figger on me though. I'll stand by thisold farm. I ken work it single-handed. An' I kind o' notion the Injunsaround here someways."

  "But we couldn't do without you."

  Seth shook his head. As she beheld the movement, Rosebud's lips quivered,and a little impatient frown drew her brows together. She felt likeshaking him for his stupidity.

  "Well, I'm just going to do it, Seth. And--and I'm sorry I said anythingto you about it. I shall buy it for Rube without telling him. And you'llhelp me?"

  "Sure."

  "Quite sure?"

  "Nothin' more certain."

  The girl's impatience had passed. A demure smile had replaced the frown,as she stared out at the flaming western sky. Presently she went on with agreat assumption of calmness.

  "I'm in a bit of a difficulty, though. You see, I want to do the thing atonce, and I can't because I haven't got the money yet. I want to know ifthere isn't some means of arranging it. You see I only have a certainincome at present. Later on, I shall get the whole fortune. It's thatsilly business about getting it when I'm married. And, of course, I'm notmarried yet, am I?"

  "No."

  Rosebud felt a desperate desire to run away. But she had never realizedhow difficult Seth was before. His uncompromising directness was enough toupset any one, she told herself.

  "Well, I must raise the money now. You see, now."

  "Can't be done. You see, the dollars ain't yours till you marry. Mebbethey'll never be yours. Mebbe you won't never marry. I guess every femaledon't allus marry. No, can't be done, I guess."

  "No--o. I never looked at it like that before. No. The money isn't mine,is it? So, of course, I can't do it. Oh, Seth, I am disappointed!"

  The girl's face had dropped, and there was something almost tragic in hertone. Seth heard the tone and it smote his heart, and made him long totake her in his arms and comfort her. He hated himself for what he hadsaid.

  "Why, little Rosie," he said gently, "I was only jest lookin' straight atit. Guess them dollars is yours. It's jest a question o' gettin'married."

  The girl had turned away again. The sky was fast darkening, and a deepgrayness was spreading from the east. And now, without turning, she saidquietly--

  "Yes, I must get married. But the
re's no one wants to marry me."

  Seth drew a deep breath and stirred uneasily.

  There was another long pause while Rosebud sat silently and unconsciouslylistening to the thumping of her own heart, and Seth tried hopelessly torelight a pipe in which all the tobacco had burnt out.

  Suddenly Rosebud faced round. The growing darkness concealed the deepflush which had now taken possession of her cheeks, and spread even tobrow and throat.

  "But I do want that money, Seth," she said in a low tone. "And--and--yousaid--you promised you would help me."

  There was a sharp sound of an empty pipe falling to the ground. Two strongrough hands were suddenly thrust out and rested in a steady grasp upon thegirl's rounded shoulders. They slid their way upward until her soft cheekswere resting in their palms.

  Rosebud felt her face lifted until she found herself gazing into the man'sdark eyes which, in the darkness, were shining with a great love light.Her lids drooped before such passionate intensity. And her heart thrilledwith rapture as she listened to his rough, honest words.

  "Little Rosie, gal, you don't jest know what you're sayin'. I hadn't meantto, sure, but now I can't jest help it. My wits seem somehow gone, an' Idon't guess as you'll ever forgive me. Ther's only one way I ken help you,little gal. 'Tain't right. 'Tain't honest, I know, but I guess I'mweak-kneed 'bout things now. I love you that bad I jest want to marry you.Guess I've loved you right along. I loved you when I picked you up inthese arms nigh seven years ago. I loved you when I bandaged up thatgolden head o' yours. An' I've loved you--ever since. Rosie, gal, I jestdon't know what I'm sayin'. How ken I? I'm daft--jest daft wi' love ofyou. I've tried to be honest by you. I've tried to do my duty by you--butI jest can't no longer, 'cos I love you----"

  But he abruptly released her, and blindly groped on the ground for hispipe. He had suddenly realized that his actions, his words were past allforgiveness.

  He did not find his pipe. Rosebud was kneeling now, and, as he stooped,his head came into contact with hers. In an instant his arms were abouther slight figure, and he was crushing her to his breast in a passionateembrace.

  "Oh, God! I love you, Rosie!" he cried, with all the pent-up passion ofyears finding vent in the exclamation.

  Her face was raised to his; his lips sought hers, soft and warm. He kissedher again and again. He had no words. His whole soul was crying out forher. She was his, and he was holding her in his arms. Cost what it mightafterward she was his for this one delirious moment.

  But the moment passed all too swiftly. Reason returned to him, and hisarms dropped from about her as he realized the enormity of his offence.

  "Child--little Rosie," he cried brokenly, "I'm crazy! What--what have Idone?"

  But Rosebud did not go from him as he had expected she would. She did notstir. Her face was hidden from him, and he could not see the anger heexpected to read there. She answered him. And her answer was meek--very,very humble.

  "You've let go of me," she said in a low voice. "And--and I was socomfortable--so--so--happy!"

  "Happy?" reechoed Seth.

  She was in his arms again. Night had fallen and all was still. No wordswere spoken between them for many minutes. Those rapturous moments weretheirs alone, none could see, none could know. At length it was Rosebudwho looked up from the pillow of his breast. Her lovely eyes were shiningeven in the darkness.

  "Seth--dear--you will help me? You will be my--partner in the ranch?"

  And the man's answer came with a ring of deep happiness in his voice.

  "Yes, Rosie, gal--if you'll make it partners for--life."

  Somehow when he came to look back on these moments Seth never quiterealized how it all came about--this wondrous happiness that was his. Butthen--yes, perhaps, he was "ter'ble slow," as Ma Sampson had said.

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