The Story of the Foss River Ranch: A Tale of the Northwest

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE PUSKY

  A pusky is a half-breed dance. That is the literal meaning of the word.The practical translation, however, is often different. In reality it isa debauch--a frightful orgie, when all the lower animal instincts--andthey are many and strong in the half-breed--are given full sway. Whendrunkenness and bestial passions rule the actions of these worse thansavages. When murder and crimes of all sorts are committed withoutscruple, without even thought. Latterly things have changed, and theseorgies are less frequent among the Breeds, or, at least, conducted withmore regard for decorum. But we are talking of some years ago, at a timewhen the Breeds had to learn the meaning of civilization--before goodorder and government were thoroughly established in this great Westerncountry; in the days when Indian "Sun" dances, and other barbarousfunctions were held. In the days of the Red River Jig, when a goodfiddler of the same was held to be a man of importance; when the methodof tuning the fiddle to the necessary pitch for the playing of thatcurious dance was a secret known only to a privileged few. Some mightcall them the "good" old days. "Bad" is the adjective which bestdescribes that period.

  When Horrocks and his men set out for the Breed camp they had discardedtheir police clothes and were clad in the uncouth garb of thehalf-breeds. They had even gone to the length of staining their faces tothe coppery hue of the Indians. They were a ragged party, these hardyriders of the plains, as they embarked on their meditated capture of thedesperate raider. All of the five were "tough" men, who regarded theirown lives lightly enough--men who had seen many stirring times, andwhose hairbreadth escapes from "tight" corners would have formed alengthy narrative in themselves. They were going to they knew not whatnow, but they did not shrink from the undertaking. Their leader was aman whose daring often outweighed his caution, but, as they well knew,he was endowed with a reckless man's luck, and they would sooner followsuch as he--for they were sure of a busy time--than work with one of hismore prudent colleagues.

  At the half-breed camp was considerable bustle and excitement. Theactivity of the Breed is not proverbial; they are at best a lazy lot,but now men and women came and went bristling with energy to theirfinger tips. Preparations were nearing completion. The chief item ofimportance was the whisky supply, and this the treasurer, Baptiste, hadmade his personal care. A barrel of the vilest "rot-gut" that was eversmuggled into prohibition territory had been procured and carefullysecreted. This formed the chief refreshment, and, doubtless, the"bluestone" with which its fiery contents were strengthened, would workthe passionate natures, on which it was to play, up to the propercrime-committing pitch.

  The orgie was to be held in a barn of considerable dimensions. It was aramshackle affair, reeking of old age and horses. The roof was decidedlyporous in places, being so lame and disjointed that the starryresplendence of the summer sky was plainly visible from beneath it.

  This, however, was a trifling matter, and of much less consequence thanthe question of space. What few horse stalls had once occupied thebuilding had been removed, and the mangers alone remained, with the odorof horse, to remind the guests of the original purpose of theirballroom. A careful manipulation of dingy Turkey red, and material whichhad once been white, struggled vainly to hide these mangers from view,while coarse, rough boards which had at one time floored some of thestalls, served to cover in the tops and convert them into seats. Theresult was a triumph of characteristic ingenuity. The barn was convertedinto a place of the necessary requirements, but rendered hideous in theprocess.

  Next came the disguising of the rafters and "collar-ties" of thebuilding. This was a process which lent itself to the curiously warpedartistic sense of the benighted people. Print--I mean cotton rags--wasthe chief idea of decoration. They understood these stuffs. They werecheap--or, at least, as cheap as anything sold at Lablache's store.Besides, print decorated the persons of the buxom Breed women, thereforewhat more appropriate than such stuff to cover the nakedness of thebuilding. Festoons of print, flags of print, rosettes of print: thesedid duty for the occasion. The staring patterns gleamed on every beam,or hung in bald draping almost down to the height of an ordinary man'shead. The effect was strangely reminiscent of a second-hand clothesshop, and helped to foster the nauseating scent of the place.

  A row of reeking oil lamps, swinging in crazy wire swings, weresuspended down the center from the moldering beams, and in the diamondwindow spaces were set a number of black bottles, the neck of each beingstuffed with a tallow candle.

  One corner of the room was set apart for the fiddler, and here a dais ofrough boarding, also draped in print stuff, was erected to meet therequirements of that honored personage. Such was the uncouth place wherethe Breeds proposed to hold their orgie. And of its class it was anexcellent example.

  At ten o'clock the barn was lit up, and strangely bizarre was theresult. The draught through the broken windows set the candlesa-guttering, until rivers of yellow fat decorated the black bottles inwhich they were set. The stench from these, and from the badly-trimmedcoal oil lamps down the center, blended disgustingly with the nativeodor of the place, until the atmosphere became heavy, pungent, revoltingin the nostrils, and breathing became a labor after the sweet fresh airof the prairie outside.

  Soon after this the dancers began to arrive. They came in their strangedeckings of glaring colors, and many and varied were the types whichsoon filled the room. There were old men and there were young men. Therewere girls in their early teens, and toothless hags, decrepit andfaltering. Faces which, in wild loveliness, might have vied with thewhite beauty of the daughters of the East. Faces seared and crumpledwith weight of years and nights of debauchery. Men were there of superbphysique, whilst others crouched huddled, with shuffling gait towardsthe manger seats, to seek rest for their rotting bones, and ease fortheir cramping muscles.

  Many of the faces were marred by disease; small-pox was a prevalentscourge amongst these people. The effect of the pure air of the prairiewas lost upon the germ-laden atmosphere which surrounded these dreadfulcamps. Crime, too, was stamped on many of the faces of those gatheringin the reeking ballroom. The small bullet head with low, recedingforehead; the square set jaws and sagging lips; the shifty, twinklinglittle eyes, narrow-set and of jetty hue; such faces were plentiful. Norwere these features confined to the male sex alone. Truly it was amotley gathering, and not pleasant to look upon.

  All, as they came, were merry with anticipation; even the hags and therheumatism-ridden male fossils croaked out their quips and coarsepleasantries to each other with gleeful unctuousness, inspired bythoughts of the generous contents of the secreted barrel. Their wateryeyes watered the more, as, on entering the room, they glanced roundseeking to discover the fiery store of liquor, which they hoped to helpto dispose of. It was a loathsome sight to behold these miserablewretches gathering together with no thought in their beast-like brainsbut of the ample food and drink which they intended should fall to theirshare. Crabbed old age seeking rejuvenation in gut-burning spirit.

  The room quickly filled, and the chattering of many and strange tongueslent an apish tone to the function. The French half-breed predominated,and these spoke their bastard lingo with that rapidity and bristlingelevation of tone which characterizes their Gallic relatives. It seemedas though each were trying to talk his neighbor down, and the processentailed excited shriekings which made the old barn ring again.

  Baptiste, with a perfect understanding of the people, served out thespirit in pannikins with a lavish hand. It was as well to inspire thesefolk with the potent liquor from the start, that their energies might befully aroused for the dance.

  When all, men and women alike, had partaken of an "eye-opener," Baptistegave the signal, and the fiddler struck up his plaintive wail. The reedystrings of his instrument shrieked out the long-drawn measure of amiserable waltz, the company paired off, and the dance began.

  Whatever else may be the failings of the Breeds they can dance. Dancingis as much a part of their nature as is the turning of a dog tw
icebefore he lies down, a feature of the canine race. Those who werephysically incapable of dancing lined the walls and adorned the mangerseats. For the rest, they occupied the sanded floor, and danced untilthe dust clouded the air and added to the choking foulness of theatmosphere.

  The shrieking fiddle lured this savage people, and its dreadful tone wasmusic of the sweetest to their listening ears. This was a people whowould dance. They would dance so long as they could stand.

  More drink followed the first dance. Baptiste had not yet recognized thepitch of enthusiasm which must promise a successful evening. Thequantities of liquor thus devoured were appalling. The zest increased.The faces wearing an habitual frown displayed a budding smile. Thenatural smiler grinned broadly. All warmed to the evening's amusement.

  Now came the festive barn dance. The moccasined feet pounded the filthyfloor, and the dust gathered thick round the gums of the hard-breathingdancers. The noise of coarse laughter and ribald shoutings increased.All were pleased with themselves, but more pleased still with the fieryliquid served out by Baptiste. The scene grew more wild as time crepton, and the effect of the liquor made itself apparent. The fiddlerlabored cruelly at his wretched instrument. His task was no light one,but he spared himself no pains. His measure must be even, his tonealmost unending to satisfy his countrymen. He understood them, as didBaptiste. To fail in his work would mean angry protests from those heserved, and angry protests amongst the Breeds generally took the form ofa shower of leaden bullets. So he scraped away with aching limbs, andwith heavy foot pounding out the time upon the crazy dais. He must playuntil long after daylight, until his fingers cramped, and his old eyeswould remain open no longer.

  Peter Retief had not as yet put in an appearance. Horrocks was at hispost viewing the scene from outside one of the broken windows. His menwere hard by, concealed at certain points in the shelter of somestraggling bush which surrounded the stable. Horrocks, withcharacteristic energy and disregard for danger, had set himself the taskof spying out the land. He had a waiting game to play, but the result hehoped would justify his action.

  The scene he beheld was not new to him, his duties so often carried himwithin the precincts of a half-breed camp. No one knew the Breeds betterthan did this police officer.

  Time passed. Again and again the fiddle ceased its ear-maddening screamsas refreshment was partaken of by the dancers. Wilder and wilder grewthe scene as the potent liquor took hold of its victims. They dancedwith more and more reckless abandon as each time they returned to stepit to the fiddler's patient measure. Midnight approached and still nosign of Retief. Horrocks grew restless and impatient.

  Once the fiddle ceased, and the officer watching saw all eyes turn tothe principal entrance to the barn. His heart leapt in anticipation ashe gazed in the direction. Surely this sudden cessation could onlyherald the coming of Retief.

  He saw the door open as he craned forward to look. For the moment hecould not see who entered; a crowd obscured his view. He heard a cheerand a clapping of hands, and he rejoiced. Then the crowd parted and hesaw the slim figure of a girl pass down the center of the reeking den.She was clad in buckskin shirt and dungaree skirt. At the sight hemuttered a curse. The newcomer was Jacky Allandale.

  He watched her closely as she moved amongst her uncouth surroundings.Her beautiful face and graceful figure was like to an oasis of statelyflora in a desert of trailing, vicious brambles, and he marveled at thefamiliarity with which she came among these people. Moreover, he becamebeset with misgivings as he remembered the old stories which linked thisgirl's name with that of Retief. He struggled to fathom the meaning ofwhat he saw, but the real significance of her coming escaped him.

  The Breeds once more returned to their dancing, and all went on asbefore. Horrocks followed Jacky's movements with his eyes. He saw herstanding beside a toothless old woman, who wagged her cunning, aged headas she talked in answer to the girl's questions. Jacky seemed to belooking and inquiring for some one, and the officer wondered if theobject of her solicitude was Retief. He would have been surprised had heknown that she was inquiring and looking for himself. Presently sheseated herself and appeared to be absorbed in the dance.

  The drink was flowing freely now, and a constant demand was being madeupon Baptiste. Whilst the fiery spirit scorched down the hardenedthroats, strange, weird groans came from the fiddler's woefulinstrument. The old man was tuning it down for the plaintiverequirements of the Red River Jig.

  The dance of the evening was about to begin. Men and women primedthemselves for the effort. Each was eager to outdo his or her neighborin variety of steps and power of endurance. All were prepared to do ordie. The mad jig was a national contest, and the one who lasted thelongest would be held the champion dancer of the district--a coveteddistinction amongst this strange people.

  At last the music began again, and now the familiar "Ragtime" beatfascinatingly upon the air. Those who lined the walls took up themeasure, and, with foot and clapping hands, marked the time for thedancers. Those who competed leapt to the fray, and soon the reeking roombecame stifling with dust.

  The fiddler's time, slow at the commencement, soon grew faster, and thedancers shook their limbs in delighted anticipation. Faster and fasterthey shuffled and jigged, now opposite to partners, now round eachother, now passing from one partner to another, now alone, for theadmiration of the onlookers. Nor was there pause or hesitation. Aninstant's pause meant dropping out of that mad and old time "hoe-down,"and each coveted the distinction of champion. Faster and more wildlythey footed it, and soon the speed caused some of the less agile to dropout. It was a giddy sight to watch, and the strange clapping of thespectators was not the least curious feature of the scene.

  The crowd of dancers grew thinner as the fiddler, with a marvelousdisplay of latent energy, kept ever-increasing his speed.

  In spite of himself Horrocks became fascinated. There was something sobarbarous--heathenish--in what he beheld. The minutes flew by, and thedance was rapidly nearing its height. More couples fell out, dead beatand gasping, but still there remained a number who would fight it out tothe bitter end. The streaming faces and gaping lips of those yetremaining told of the dreadful strain. Another couple dropped out, thewoman actually falling with exhaustion. She was dragged aside and leftunnoticed in the wild excitement. Now were only three pairs left in thecenter of the floor.

  The police-officer found himself speculating as to which would be thewinner of the contest.

  "That brown-faced wench, with the flaming red dress, 'll do 'em all," hesaid to himself. The woman he was watching had a young Breed of greatagility for her _vis-a-vis_. "She or her partner 'll do it," he went on,almost audibly. "Good," he was becoming enthusiastic, "there's anothercouple done," as two more suddenly departed, and flung themselves on theground exhausted. "Yes, they'll do it--crums, but there goes herpartner! Keep it up, girl--keep it up. The others won't be long. Staywith--"

  He broke off in alarm as he felt his arm suddenly clutched from behind.Simultaneously he felt heavy breathing blowing upon his cheek. Quick asa flash his revolver was whipped out and he swung round.

  "Easy, sergeant," said the voice of one of his troopers. "For Gawd'ssake don't shoot. Say, Retief's down at the settlement. A messenger'sjest come up to say he's 'hustled' all our horses from Lablache'sstable, and the old man himself's in trouble. Come over to that bluffyonder, the messenger's there. He's one of Lablache's clerks."

  The police-officer was dumbfounded, and permitted himself to beconducted to the bluff without a word. He was wondering if he weredreaming, so sudden and unexpected was the announcement of the disaster.

  When he halted at the bluff, the clerk was still discussing the affairwith one of the troopers. As yet the other two were in their places ofconcealment, and were in ignorance of what had happened.

  "It's dead right," the clerk said, in answer to Horrocks's sharply-putinquiry. "I'd been in bed sometime when I was awakened by a terribleracket going on in the office. It's just under the room I sle
ep in.Well, I hopped out of bed and slipped on some clothes, and wentdownstairs, thinking the governor had been taken with a fit orsomething. When I got down the office was in darkness, and quiet asdeath. I went cautiously to work, for I was a bit scared. Striking alight I made my way in, expecting to find the governor laid out, but,instead, I found the furniture all chucked about and the room empty. Itwasn't two shakes before I lit upon this sheet of paper. It was lying onthe desk. The governor's writing is unmistakable. You can see foryourself; here it is--"

  Horrocks took the sheet, and, by the light of a match read the scrawlupon it. The writing had evidently been done in haste, but its meaningwas clear.

  "Retief is here," it ran. "I am a prisoner. Follow up with all speed.LABLACHE."

  After reading, Horrocks turned to the clerk, who immediately went onwith his story.

  "Well, I just bolted out to the stables intending to take a horse and goover to 'Poker' John's. But when I got there I found the doors open, an'every blessed horse gone. Yes, your horses as well--and the governor'sbuckboard too. I jest had a look round, saw that the team harness hadgone with the rest, then I ran as hard as I could pelt to the Foss RiverRanch. I found old John up, but he'd been drinking, so, after a bit oftalk, I learned from him where you were and came right along. That'sall, sergeant, and bad enough it is too. I'm afraid they'll string thegovernor up. He ain't too popular, you know."

  The clerk finished up his breathless narrative in a way that left nodoubt in the mind of his hearers as to his sincerity. He was tremblingwith nervous excitement still. And even in the starlight the look uponhis face spoke of real concern for his master.

  For some seconds the officer did not reply. He was thinking rapidly. Tosay that he was chagrined would hardly convey his feelings. He had beendone--outwitted--and he knew it. Done--like the veriest tenderfoot. He,an officer of wide experience and of considerable reputation. And worstof all he remembered Lablache's warning. He, the money-lender, had beenmore far-seeing--had understood something of the trap which he,Horrocks, had plunged headlong into. The thought was as worm-wood to theprairie man, and helped to cloud his judgment as he now sought for thebest course to adopt. He saw now with bitter, mental self-reviling, howthe story that Gautier had told him--and for which he had paid--andwhich had been corroborated by the conversation he had heard in thecamp, had been carefully prepared by the wily Retief; and how he, like ahungry, simple fish, had deliberately risen and devoured the bait. Hewas maddened by the thought, too, that the money-lender had been rightand he wrong, and took but slight solace from the fact that the chiefdisaster had overtaken that great man.

  However, it was plain that something must be done at once to assistLablache, and he cast about in his mind for the best means to secure themoney-lender's release. In his dilemma a recollection came to him of thepresence of Jacky Allandale in the barn, and a feeling nearly akin torevenge came to him. He felt that in some way this girl was connectedwith, and knew of, the doings of Retief.

  With a hurried order to remain where they were to his men he returned tohis station at the window of the barn. He looked in, searching for thefamiliar figure of the girl. Dancing had ceased, and the howling Breedswere drinking heavily. Jacky was no longer to be seen, and, with bitterdisappointment, he turned again to rejoin his companions. There wasnothing left to do but to hasten to the settlement and procure freshhorses.

  He had hardly turned from the window when several shots rang out on thenight air. They came from the direction in which he was moving.Instantly he comprehended that an attack was being made upon histroopers. He drew his pistol and dashed forward at a run. Three pacessufficed to terminate his race. Silence had followed the firing of theshots he had heard. Suddenly his quick ears detected the hiss of alariat whistling through the air. He spread out his arms to ward it off.He felt something fall upon them. He tried to throw it off, and, thenext instant the rope jerked tight round his throat, and he was hurled,choking, backwards upon the ground.