The Westerners

by Stewart Edward White

  XVI

  AND GETS IT BACK AGAIN

  The girl had seen all that Lafond had seen and more. She knew now thatBilly Knapp was easily the most important figure in the camp; thatCheyenne Harry was the most admired and feared; that Jack Graham wasthe most likely to be heard from in the future. The other men fellinto the background behind these three figures. The situation wassimplified by the fact. All she needed now for complete triumph was,to discover the vulnerable points of these three, attack them craftily,and the game was hers.

  She thought she knew the way. She fell asleep dreaming of it. Sheawoke in the early morning with the day's plan clear and perfect in hermind, each move in the game she was to play clearly outlined beforeher. It had come to her in the night without conscious effort on herown part.

  She dressed herself in the semi-obscurity of the wagon-body, andstepped out into the morning. The brook was not far away. Shediscovered it, and bathed her face and throat in its ice-cold waters.Then she returned to the wagon, where she made breakfast of a hugeirregular chunk of bread and slices of cold bacon, sitting on the wagontongue and swinging her feet carelessly back and forth while eating.Occasionally she threw a remnant to the few silent Canada jays thatdrifted here and there in the sleeping town, fluffed out like milkweedpollen in the summer, searching for scraps. They swooped to herofferings on swift motionless wing, and then retreated to a distance,whence they abused their benefactor with strident voice. The girlwatched them idly.

  How to impress her personality in the most agreeable way on thegreatest number of men! The problem was many faceted. She must notshow favoritism; therefore the method must be general. She must renderherself and not merely her sex agreeable: therefore it would have to bepersonal. It must appeal to the men's sense of protection rather thanto their mere admiration; therefore in it she must efface herself, andexalt them. This was all apparently contradictory. But no; she saw itclearly in a flash. She must let them do her a favor. Instinctivelyshe realized, though she did not formulate the thought, that this isone of the sure ways of gaining a man's good will. She cast back overthe necessities of the case, and saw that it would suffice. In doingsomething for her, they would at once stand well in their own eyes,because of a certain consciousness of unselfish effort; they wouldexpand protectively toward her, because of her weakness, implied in thefact that they could do her a kindness. What was the favor to be? Thewagon behind her answered the question. They should build her a house.

  All this passed through her mind, as a drift setting in from upstream,gliding before her consciousness, and floating on down stream inunhasting progression. She did not realize that she was thinking out aproblem; at least she made no effort to do so. It came to her as sheneeded it. To all appearance she was watching idly, with unruffledbrow, the tenuous threads of smoke which indicated that the camp wasawakening. The number of these smoke signals suggested a new problem.She could hardly enlist the entire population of a camp the size ofCopper Creek in the task of building one little log cabin. The idea ofthe swarming multitude struck her as so funny that she laughed aloud.She must choose; and the choice must be judicious. The men selectedmust represent the influential element, the leaders of opinion; whilethose denied the privilege of serving her must be the sort who alwaysfollow with the majority. Here her intuition balked, and her scantyknowledge could not help it out. She was frankly puzzled.

  As she sat there knitting her brows, a boy came up the street. He wasbare-foot, straw-hatted, freckled. He had wide gray eyes, a snub nose,and an impudent mouth. His clothes were varied and inadequate. Overhis arm he carried a little rifle. About him, at a wary distance,frisked Peter, escaped from the Little Nugget through some mysteriousback exit.

  The boy occasionally threw an impatient stick at Peter, whereupon Peterwould suddenly place two paws in front of him and bend his back down,with every appearance of delight. Then the boy would issue commands toPeter anent returning home, to which Peter paid not the slightestattention. So absorbed was he in his effort to get rid of what heevidently considered an undesirable companion, that he did not noticethe girl until he was within a few yards of her. He then gave hisentire attention to her inspection. He stood on one spot and staredwithout winking, digging a big toe into the dust. His unabashed eyestook in every detail. He was without embarrassment, and evidently gavenot a thought to the effect of this extended scrutiny on the object ofit.

  "Hello, kid!" called Molly.

  The boy completed his leisurely inspection. Then, "Hello," heanswered, with reserve.

  "Won't you come over and see me?"

  He weighed the point and drew nearer.

  "Who are you?" he asked bluntly.

  "My name's Molly; what's yours?"

  "Dennis Moroney. They call me the Kid. What-chew doin' here?"

  "I'm going to live here."

  "Oh," said he, and looked her all over again. "This rifle's aflobert," he observed.

  "Is it? Let's see. What do you shoot with it? Is there much game uphere?"

  "Don't snap it; it's bad for it. They's lots of game. I got a foxsquirrel the other day. He was so long. He was up a big pine, and Ihit him right through the head."

  "You must be a good shot. Will you take me hunting with you some day?"

  "I dunno," he replied doubtfully. "Girls ain't much good."

  "Try me," urged Molly, smiling.

  "I'll let you shoot her off anyway," he said magnanimously. "But yougotter help clean her. If you don't clean her, she gets rusty andwon't shoot straight. Here's the catridges."

  "What little bits of things! Will they kill anything?"

  "Hoh!" replied the Kid with contempt.

  "Is that your dog?" hastily inquired Molly, conscious of her error.Peter was busily engaged in acquiring an olfactory knowledge of thefour wheels and two axles of the wagon.

  "Him? Naw. He's the bigges' fool dog I ever see. He goes alongunless you tie him up. And he keeps rummagin' around, and he scaresall the game there is. _I_ can't _make_ him stay home."

  A cabin door opened quickly, and a miner issued forth.

  "There goes Dan Barker," said the Kid.

  In twenty minutes Molly knew the history of everyone of any importancein town. She found the child's primitive instinct of hero worship anunerring touchstone by which to judge of each individual's influence inthis little community. He reflected the camp's opinion, and this wasexactly what she wanted to learn. She encouraged the boy to talk--nota difficult matter, for his attentions had hitherto been quite ignored,saving by Frosty and Peter. Frosty had proved valuable always in thematter of skinning game or extracting refractory shells, but he hadnever, even in his youngest days, been a boy. Between Peter and theKid was waged a perpetual war on the subject of hunting methods. TheKid believed in stalking. Peter held the opinion that the chase wasthe only noble form of the sport. The child had been lonely, strange.Now he chatted to Molly with all the self-reliant confidence whichpertains of right to healthy boyhood, but which heretofore he had beendenied. He boasted with accustomed air. He spoke lightly of greatdeeds. Molly did not laugh at him. His heart warmed to her, and hefell in love with her on the spot. This was perhaps the most importantconquest the girl was destined to make, for there is no devotion in theworld like that of a boy of thirteen for a girl older than himself.

  "WATCH ME HIT THAT SQUIRREL!"]

  In a little time, Molly had gathered a number of men about her, and washolding them by sheer force of charm.

  "How are you?" she called pleasantly to the first.

  "Purty smart," grinned the man, slouching past awkwardly. "How'syourself?"

  "Good. Come on over and see me and the Kid for awhile."

  She talked to him lightly, while he lumbered along after with his slowwits. Other men came out, to all of whom she called a greeting, andsome of whom she summoned to her. She held them easily. It became anaudience, a court. They had a good time. There was much laughter. Noo
ne grudged the delay. Each man held his axe shouldered, expecting togo on to work in a moment or so, but still lingering--because shewilled that he should.

  After a time, the hotel began to give up its inmates. The gambler cameforth into the sunshine and lit a cigarette. Graham joined him,casting an amused eye at the men about the wagon. Two or three others,including the proprietor, leaned against the hitching rail watching theanimated group. Finally Cheyenne Harry sauntered carelessly forth.His broad hat--straight-brimmed in a lop-brimmed camp--was pushed toone side. He swaggered a little.

  The girl saw him and jumped down from the wagon tongue, breaking offsuddenly in a remark she was making.

  "Hi, you!" she called.

  He paid no attention.

  "Hi, you!" she repeated, jumping up and down with a pretty impatientflutter of the hands. "Hi, you! Come here! You're wanted!"

  He looked up surprised.

  "Come here!" she repeated.

  And he went.

  "Now, boys," she said, when he had joined the group, "I'm going to livewith you, and if I live with you, I must have a place to live in. So Iwant you to build me a shack. Will you do it?"

  The men looked at one another.

  "All right," went on Molly, taking their silence for consent, andassuming a small air of proprietorship which became her well. Shespecified site and size. "And you," she commanded Cheyenne Harry, "areto boss one gang and I'll take the other. You stay here and level up,and I'll go with some of the boys to cut the timber."

  She knew Harry would not refuse because his pistol holster was emptyand all the camp knew why. And yet levelling up is a most disagreeablejob, for it is a question of pulverized rock and wood blocks, in softground; and of blasting with dynamite, in hard ground.

  Molly issued her orders rapidly. Axes were found, log chains exhumedfrom the warehouse dust, horses harnessed. She waited long enough tosee the gang under Cheyenne Harry well started in its work; and then,herself mounted on one of the horses, she and the other men took theirway down the ravine in search of timber. She was satisfied with havingbeen able to give Cheyenne Harry just the position of authority in thelittle undertaking which he now held, but she confessed to a feeling ofdisappointment that Billy Knapp had not been forthcoming, for he tooshould have had a place in her scheme. She had observed Jack Grahamnear the hotel, but she had other ideas in regard to the management ofthat refractory individual.

  But it so happened that, in regard to Billy, chance helped her out.The route selected ran up the valley, and about the bend was situatedthe Great Snake lode, Billy Knapp's famous claim, before the shack ofwhich its proprietor was at that very moment fuming savagely over thenon-arrival of certain men he had hired to build more fitting quartersfor the new company's inspection. Billy blew a big cloud from hispipe, and swore, when he finally caught sight of a group of axemen andhorses headed in his direction.

  The men saw him too. They began to laugh. "Good one on Billy Knapp,"they agreed. "He must be pretty hot when his axe gang don't come any."

  The girl overheard them.

  "What's that about Billy Knapp?" she asked sharply.

  "Didn't mean y' to hear, ma'am," replied the speaker. "Don' matter ezfur's we's concerned. But Billy, he aims to put up a shack to-day,gettin' ready for them tenderfeet that's comin' from Cheecawgo to lookover th' property; an' he hires a lot of th' boys t' put it up fer him,an', you see, you runs off with 'most the hull outfit yere to build youa shack. So, natural, we thinks it makes Billy hot."

  "I see," said Molly. She reflected a moment. "Where is it?" she asked.

  "That's it, right to the lef'. And that's Billy walkin' 'round loose."They laughed again.

  Without a word she turned the animal she was riding sharp to the left,and began to mount the little knoll. The men followed inconsternation. Billy's patience was not noted for its evenness.

  "Hullo, Billy!" she cried when she was near enough. "Good morning!"

  Billy had not at first caught sight of her, and was now plainly alittle nonplussed over his unexpected guest. Clearly he could not atthis moment "cuss out" the delinquents as they deserved. He removedhis broad black hat.

  "Good mo'ning! Good mo'ning!" he replied to the girl's greeting."Come up t' see th' wo'ks?"

  "Whoa!" called Molly. The men stopped. "No," she said flatly, "Ididn't. Not to-day, that is. I'm busy. I'm hunting for good timber."

  Billy looked puzzled. "Timber?" he repeated.

  "Yes, timber. I'm going to have a shack built, and these boys aregoing to put it up for me."

  Thus she broke the news gently. Billy looked the men over one by one.He turned a slow red.

  "Huh!" he observed at last. "I thought they was goin' to wo'k fo' me!"

  "Did you?" asked Molly sweetly. "Well, they're not; at least, not now."

  That was categorical. Billy's wits did not respond to this sort ofemergency very quickly. He did not want to be rude; he did not care tolose his men. Molly looked down.

  "Come here and tie my shoestring," she commanded, holding out her foot,and gripping the harness with both hands.

  Billy did not remember that he had ever seen so small a foot. Helooked, fascinated.

  "Well!" she said impatiently.

  He raised his head and gazed plump into the imperious depths of a pairof blue eyes. His anger melted. He approached and attempted to tiethe shoe.

  None but Molly ever knew how hard that horse was kicked by the otherlittle shoe. Indeed, no one knew at all how it happened. Some of theeye-witnesses theorized concerning bumblebees. Others said horseflies.As to the main facts, there was no doubt--that he, the horse, gave asudden startled plunge; that she, the girl, screamed slightly andstarted to fall; that he, Billy Knapp, caught her full in his arms,held her the fraction of a second, and set her lightly back on theagain motionless animal.

  Molly caught her breath and steadied herself on Billy's shoulder.Three men officiously held the horse's head.

  "My!" she gasped. "I'd like to be as strong as that!"

  Billy whirled on the axe gang with a great bluster.

  "Yere, you fellers!" he shouted. "What 're y' standin' around yerefor? Take them hosses up in th' brush behind my shack, an' cut th'lady some timber!"

  "Go ahead, boys," said Molly. She slid down from the horse. "I'll be'long in a minute. I'm a little scairt."

  They clambered on up the hill, grinning. A clank of chains told whenthey had stopped. A moment later the ring of axes was heard. The Kidand the rifle had disappeared in the direction of Peter's rapid andscrambling exit. The boy and the dog hated each other apparently, andyet they could not bear to be long apart.

  The girl sat down on the ground and made Billy talk about himself,which was the obvious thing to do. Billy was one of those expansivesanguine individuals without much ability in what we call practicalaffairs, and yet with a certain dexterity in gathering unto himself themeans with which to be impractical. Because of this, he had a goodopinion of himself, which at the same time he was much given todoubting. Molly induced him to flatter himself, and then deftly agreedwith him.

  After a time they went up through the pines to where the workmen werefelling trees. Toward noon the whole party returned to town, draggingbehind the horses a number of tree trunks chained together with steelchains. These were slid to the site of the house, and left in the road.

  The men in camp had nearly finished their job of levelling up.Cheyenne Harry had worked hard with his own hands. In the shade of theLittle Nugget, Black Mike and Graham sat, chair tilted, contemplativelywatching the process. Through the open door could be perceived a gleamof white that indicated Frosty; otherwise the street of the town wasempty. The prospectors were all out in the hills, preparing a suitableshowing for the inspection of the boom which they felt sure must beclose at hand.

  The united forces rolled the foundation timbers in place, straining,sweating, grunting, for it was no easy work. The sun stood straightoverhead. A
fter a little, observing this, Molly called a halt for thenoon hour. To each man she addressed a word of thanks, and a reminderthat the job was but half over. The reminder however was unnecessary,for, under the stimulus of concerted effort, public sentiment hadcrystallized into the opinion that the housing of a "first woman" was apublic duty.

  In a few moments the street was deserted, save for Cheyenne Harry andthe two men under the eaves of the Little Nugget. From the chimneys ofsome of the cabins the smoke of cooking arose.

  Cheyenne Harry, volatile, changeable, fickle, stood still in the middleof the dusty road and cursed himself for a fool. He had blistered hishands, overheated himself most uncomfortably, and made his muscles achewith unwonted lifting. For what? For a girl who, the evening before,had boxed his ears and stolen his gun. Fascinated by a pair of prettyeyes and a petty display of courage, he had worked himself like ahorse. He dropped his head in a brown study, moodily digging away atthe ground with his heel, ruminating bitterly over his egregious folly.

  "Thank you very much," said a soft little voice, breaking in on hisirritation like a silver bell on a moody silence.

  He raised his head, and beheld Molly standing before him, looking up athim with grave sweet eyes. There was a hint of weariness in herdrooping eyelids that appealed subtly to his own weary spirit. Sheseemed, standing there in the deserted street, to typify for the momentthe aloofness of his mood.

  "You've been good to me this morning," she went on in a quiet monotone,"mighty good!"

  She stepped nearer to him until her breast almost touched his.

  "I want you to look up at that pine over there until I tell you you canquit," she said as gravely as a child about to bestow a sugar plum.

  Harry turned his eyes to the hill.

  She stooped swiftly and drew the band of a holster and belt around hiships. Unmindful of his promise, he looked down on her in surprise.

  "Don't be mad," she pleaded. "I got Frosty to get it for me from yourshack, so I could put your gun in it. And now you'll wear it for me,won't you? I said you couldn't have it till you told me you weresorry. Well, you have told me you were sorry, in the best way--bydoing something. I know how it is. I've had to work. It's no fun tobe laughed at; and you'll always be as good and brave as you were thismorning, won't you?"

  A rush as of something beautiful swept over him. His eyes filled andhe tried to speak, but turned away.

  "Now, run along," she exclaimed gayly, giving him a little pat on theshoulder, "and don't forget you've got a job for this afternoon!"

  She stood for a moment in the middle of the road watching him.

  Graham, sitting under the eaves of the Little Nugget, surveyed thelittle scene with cynical eyes. He watched the girl walk toward thesaloon. She had taken off her sunbonnet and the noon sun was gildingher hair. She was pensive and thoughtful, and looked down. He toldhimself that she did this because it was a becoming pose. Graham wasthe sort of man whom pretence, craftiness, guile, always roused toarms. So long as he was antagonized, or thought he was, his bitternessand scorn were unappeasable; but once his ascendancy was freelyacknowledged, he threw away its advantages with the utmost generosity.He thought he saw through this girl, and so he despised her and hertricks alike.

  As she approached, Lafond arose and went inside the saloon, where hebegan to inquire of Frosty in regard to dinner. The girl sat down inthe vacated chair. Beyond a curt little nod to Graham she did notnotice his presence.

  Over Tom Custer an eagle was wheeling slowly to and fro, barking withthe mere delight of being on the wing. Molly fixed her eyes dreamilyon the bird, but without apparent consciousness of more than the merefact of its wide motion. Graham imperturbably whittled a pine stick,and whistled at the sky.

  This state of affairs continued for some time.

  "How do you keep the dirt from coming through the roof?" asked Mollysuddenly, her mind, to all appearance, entirely on the work in hand.

  Graham explained briefly.

  "Thank you," said Molly.

  After a few minutes more Graham shifted his knife into his left hand,and began idly to stab the bench with it. Several times he opened hismouth to speak.

  "You've got him well trained," he observed finally, with a slight curlof the lip.

  "Who? What do you mean?" she cried, genuinely surprised out of theindifference she had assumed.

  "Him--Lafond. He knows when to go away. Why did you want to get ridof him?"

  "I didn't want to get rid of him. It was so I could be alone."

  "That's consistent! It was nothing of the kind. It was so you couldbe alone--with me."

  She looked him over, flushing angrily. Then she deliberately turnedher shoulder to him.

  "You are very impudent," she remarked coldly. "You seem to forget thatI don't even know you. I don't know why I sit here and listen, exceptthat I am comfortable, and don't care to be driven away."

  "You wanted to capture me some way or another," he went on musingly,catching a glimmer of the truth; "same as those poor fools out there inthe sun. I'd just like to know how you meant to do it and what you'dhave done to me. Would you have flattered me, or coaxed me, or what?"

  The girl did not reply.

  "How?" he urged, expecting an angry outburst, but profoundlyindifferent to it.

  "You are cruel," she answered softly, after a pause, "and very unjust."Her cheeks were glowing and there was a glint in her eye, but he couldnot see that. "They are only kind and good, not fools."

  "Of course they're good, but they are good because you fool them intoit," persisted Graham, spitefully pressing home his point. "You wantto win 'em all, just like a woman, but you're too clumsy about it.Anybody can see through that sort of tommyrot, if he isn't a fool. SoI call them fools, and I stick to it."

  "With you it's different," she replied, hesitating almost before eachword. "You ain't the same kind. I know it's foolish, but I can't helpit, and I don't think I'm so much to blame. Perhaps I _am_ trying tomake them like me. Is there so much harm in that? Nobody has everliked me before. I have no mother and no sisters--only Mike. I wantto be liked, and--and--I'm _sorry_ if you don't think I ought to, butit can't be helped."

  She looked out again at the eagle slowly circling over Tom Custer, witheyes vaguely troubled. Graham could examine her closely without thedanger of detection. He did so.

  There was something pathetically child-like about her after all,something delicate in the oval of her face and the sensitive modellingof her chin, which appealed to a man's protective instincts. Her eyeswere so wide and blue and wistful, and again so pathetically young,like those of a little child gazing upon the shower-wet world from thesafety of a window. Graham suddenly realized that this was noself-sufficient, capable woman whom he was so bluntly antagonizing, butonly a pinafored innocent playing with forces of which she did not knowthe meaning. He began all at once to feel sorry for her. Against herprobable future in this rough camp, how small the present looked, howlittle were her coquetries, her innocent wiles!

  She sighed almost inaudibly. The eagle folded his wings and droppedlike a plummet from the upper air, only to swoop upward on outspreadpinions a moment later.

  Graham began to be ashamed of himself. His thoughts took a newdirection. He wondered what her previous history, her education, couldhave been. Her face was pure, her eyes clear. Could she have livedalways with the half-breed? Both spoke English of an excellence beyondthe common--in that country, at least. Then he began idly to watch thesunlight running nimbly up and down a single loose tress of her hair,as the wind lifted it and let it fall.

  The girl turned and caught his eyes fairly.

  "What is it?" she asked simply.

  "I was wondering," he replied with equal simplicity, "whether you hadalways lived with him."

  "No," she replied, without pretending not to understand the purport ofhis question. Then, in the same little voice, in which was a trace,just a trace, of an infinite dreariness: "I
have lived all my life atan Indian agency. He came and took me away a little while ago. He isgood to me," she said doubtfully, "and I am glad to be away. The agentwas good to me, but there were only a few people, and I only read andread and read, or rode and rode and rode, and knew nothing at all ofpeople. I got tired of it. Nobody cared for me there. Nobody caresfor me anywhere, I reckon, except Mike, and his caring for peopledoesn't count so very much."

  She turned upon him again that vaguely troubled gaze, which seemed tosee him, and yet to look beyond him.

  "Poor little girl," said Graham, on a sudden deeply moved.

  "Poor little girl!" he repeated with infinite tenderness, and took heridle hand in both of his.

  "Poor little girl!" he said for the third time. She put her other handbefore her eyes; then, releasing herself gently, she rose and glidedthrough the door without a word.

  Once inside the portal her eyes cleared with a snap. She laughed.