Keith of the Border: A Tale of the Plains

by Randall Parrish

  The light was considerably farther away than they had at first supposed,and as they advanced steadily toward it, the nature of the groundrapidly changed, becoming irregular, and littered with low growingshrubs. In the darkness they stumbled over outcroppings of rock,and after a fall or two, were compelled to move forward with extremecaution. But the mysterious yellow glow continually beckoned, and withnew hope animating the hearts of both men, they staggered on, nervingthemselves to the effort, and following closely along the bank of thestream.

  At last they arrived where they could perceive dimly something of thenature of this unexpected desert oasis.

  The light shone forth, piercing the night, through the uncurtainedwindow of a log cabin, which would otherwise have been completelyconcealed from view by a group of low growing cottonwoods. This was allthe black, enshrouding night revealed, and even this was merely madeapparent by the yellow illumination of the window. The cabin stood uponan island, a strip of sand, partially covered by water, separating itfrom the north shore on which they stood. There was no sign oflife about the hut, other than the burning lamp, but that alone wassufficient evidence of occupancy. In spite of hunger, and urgent need,Keith hesitated, uncertain as to what they might be called upon to face.Who could be living in this out-of-the-way spot, in the heart of thisinhospitable desert? It would be no cattle outpost surely, for there wasno surrounding grazing land, while surely no professional hunter wouldchoose such a barren spot for headquarters. Either a hermit, anxious toescape all intercourse with humanity, or some outlaw hiding from arrest,would be likely to select so isolated a place in which to live. To themit would be ideal. Away from all trails, where not even widely rovingcattlemen would penetrate, in midst of a desert avoided by Indiansbecause of lack of game,--a man might hide here year after year withoutdanger of discovery. Yet such a one would not be likely to welcome theircoming, and they were without arms. But Keith was not a man to hesitatelong because of possible danger, and he stepped down into the shallowwater.

  "Come on, Neb," he commanded, "and we 'll find out who lives here."

  The window faced the west, and he came up the low bank to where thedoor fronted the north in intense darkness. Under the shadow of thecottonwoods he could see nothing, groping his way, with hands extended.His foot struck a flat stone, and he plunged forward, striking theunlatched door so heavily as to swing it open, and fell partiallyforward into the room. As he struggled to his knees, Neb's black facepeering past him into the lighted interior, he seemed to perceive in oneswift, comprehensive glance, every revealed detail. A lamp burned ona rudely constructed set of drawers near the window, and a wood fireblazed redly in a stone fireplace opposite, the yellow and red lightsblending in a peculiar glow of color. Under this radiance were revealedthe rough log walls, plastered with yellow clay, and hung about withthe skins of wild animals, a roughly made table, bare except for a booklying upon it, and a few ordinary appearing boxes, evidently utilized asseats, together with a barrel cut so as to make a comfortable chair.In the back wall was a door, partially open, apparently leading into asecond room. That was all, except the woman.

  Keith must have perceived all these in that first hurried glance, forthey were ever after closely associated together in his mind, yet at themoment he possessed no clear thought of anything except her. She stooddirectly behind the table, where she must have sprung hastily at thefirst sound of their approach, clutching at the rude mantel above thefireplace, and staring toward him, her face white, her breath coming insobs. At first he thought the vision a dream, a delirium born from hislong struggle; he could not conceive the possibility of such a presencein this lonely place, and staggering to his feet, gazed wildly, dumblyat the slender, gray clad figure, the almost girlish face under theshadowing dark hair, expecting the marvellous vision to vanish. Surelythis could not be real! A woman, and such a woman as this here, andalone, of all places! He staggered from weakness, almost terror, andgrasped the table to hold himself erect. The rising wind came swirlingin through the open door, causing the fire to send forth spirals ofsmoke, and he turned, dragging the dazed negro within, and snapping thelatch behind him. When he glanced around again he fully believed thevision confronting him would have vanished. But no! there she yetremained, those wide-open, frightened brown eyes, with long lashes halfhiding their depths, looking directly into his own; only now she hadslightly changed her posture, leaning toward him across the table. Likea flash he comprehended that this was reality--flesh and blood--and,with the swift instinct of a gentleman, his numbed, nerveless fingersjerked off his hat, and he bowed bareheaded before her.

  "Pardon me," he said, finding his voice with difficulty. "I fell overthe step, but--but I didn't expect to find a woman here."

  He heard her quick breathing, marked a slight change in the expressionof the dark eyes, and caught the glitter of the firelight on a revolverin her lowered hand.

  "What did you expect to find?"

  "I hardly knew," he explained lamely; "we stumbled on this hut byaccident. I didn't know there was a cabin in all this valley."

  "Then you are not here for any purpose? to meet with any one?"

  "No; we were lost, and had gone into camp up above, when we discoveredyour light."

  "Where do you come from?"

  Keith hesitated just an instant, yet falsehood was never easy for him,and he saw no occasion for any deceit now.

  "Carson City."

  "What brought you here?"

  "We started for the 'Bar X' Ranch down below, on the Canadian; gotcaught in a sand-storm, and then just drifted. I do not know withintwenty miles of where we are."

  She drew a deep breath of unconcealed relief.

  "Are you alone?"

  "The negro and I--yes; and you haven't the slightest reason to be afraidof us--we're square."

  She looked at him searchingly, and something in Keith's clean-cut faceseemed to bring reassurance, confidence in the man.

  "I am not afraid," she answered, coming toward him around the shorttable. "Only it is so lonely here, and you startled me, bursting inwithout warning. But you look all right, and I am going to believe yourstory. What is your name?"

  "Keith--Jack Keith."

  "A cowman?"

  "A little of everything, I reckon," a touch of returning bitternessin the tone. "A plainsman, who has punched cattle, but my last job wasgovernment scout."

  "You look as though you might be more than that," she said slowly.

  The man flushed, his lips pressing tightly together. "Well, I--I mayhave been," he confessed unwillingly. "I started out all right, butsomehow I reckon I just went adrift. It's a habit in this country."

  Apparently those first words of comment had left her lips unthinkingly,for she made no attempt to reply; merely stood there directly facinghim, her clear eyes gazing frankly into his own. He seemed to actuallysee her now for the first time, fairly--a supple, slender figure, simplydressed, with wonderfully excessive brown eyes, a perfect wealth ofdark hair, a clear complexion with slight olive tinge to it, a strong,intelligent face, not strictly beautiful, yet strangely attractive, theforehead low and broad, the nose straight, the lips full and inclined tosmile. Suddenly a vague remembrance brought recognition.

  "Why, I know you now."

  "Indeed!" the single word a note of undisguised surprise.

  "Yes; I thought you looked oddly familiar all the time, but couldn't forthe life of me connect up. You're Christie Maclaire."

  "Am I?" her eyes filled with curiosity.

  "Of course you are. You needn't be afraid of me if you want it keptsecret, but I know you just the same. Saw you at the 'Gaiety' inIndependence, maybe two months ago. I went three times, mostly on youraccount. You've got a great act, and you can sing too."

  She stood in silence, still looking fixedly at him, her bosom risingand falling, her lips parted as if to speak. Apparently she did not knowwhat to do, how to act, and was thinking swiftly.

  "Mr. Keith," she said, at last in decision, "I am going to ask
you toblot that all out--to forget that you even suspect me of being ChristieMaclaire, of the Gaiety."

  "Why, certainly; but would you explain?"

  "There is little enough to explain. It is sufficient that I am herealone with you. Whether I wish to or not, I am compelled to trust myselfto your protection. You may call me Christie Maclaire, or anything elseyou please; you may even think me unworthy respect, but you possess theface of a gentleman, and as such I am going to trust you--I must trustyou. Will you accept my confidence on these terms?"

  Keith did not smile, nor move. Weak from hunger and fatigue, he leanedwearily against the wall. Nevertheless that simple, womanly appeal awokeall that was strong and sacrificing within him, although her words wereso unexpected that, for the moment, he failed to realize their fullpurport. Finally he straightened up.

  "I--I accept any terms you desire," he gasped weakly, "if--if you willonly give one return."

  "One return?--what?"

  "Food; we have eaten nothing for sixty hours." Her face, which had beenso white, flushed to the hair, her dark eyes softening.

  "Why, of course; sit down. I ought to have known from your face. Thereis plenty here--such as it is--only you must wait a moment."

  Chapter IX. The Girl of the Cabin