CHAPTER XVI
A GUEST AT THE RANCHO
Then there was feasting and racing and dancing and much ado. Diceclicked; cards sputtered; the pawn passed in the ancient _peon_ game.There was a barbecued steer, athletic contests, and competitions inmarkmanship. The Fiesta de Santa Maria de Refugio was to continuethroughout the entire period of the full moon, and there must bediversion for every day and every night.
Oliver Drew awoke the next day after the fire dance in the _ramada_which had been assigned to him. He felt as if he had been passed througha stamp mill, so sore were his muscles and so burned and blistered werefeet and legs. He had been carried to his bed of green willow boughsdirectly after the dance, where he had slept until nearly nightfall.Then he had been awakened and given food. After eating he fell asleeponce more, and slept all night, his head in the silver-mounted saddlethat Bolivio had made.
He dragged himself from the shakedown and went and sat at an opening inthe booth. The _ramada_ of the California Indian is merely an arbourlikestructure built of newly cut limbs of trees, their still unwitheredleaves serving to screen the occupants from outside eyes.
The birds were singing. Up the steep mountainside back of thereservation the goats and burros of the Showut Poche-dakas browsedcontentedly on buckthorn and manzanita bushes. There was the smell offlowers in the drowsy air, mingling strangely with that indescribableodour that permeates an Indian village.
It was noticeably quiet outside. Doubtless the Indians were enjoying anearly-morning siesta after some grilling orgy of the night before.Oliver groaned with the movements necessary to searching his pockets forcigarette materials. His groan was mimicked by a familiar voice in thedoorway.
Jessamy Selden entered.
"I've been listening for a sound from you," she chirruped. "My, how youslept! All in?"
"Pretty nearly," he said.
She came and sat beside him on a box.
"Are you badly burned?"
"Oh, no. I guess your courtplaster helped some. But I'm terribly sore.And, worst of all, I feel like an utter ass!"
"Why, how so?"
He snorted indignantly. "I went nutty," he laughed shortly. "I have lostthe supreme contempt which I have always had for people who go batty inany sort of fanatical demonstration, like that last night. I've seensupposedly intelligent white folks go absolutely wild at religious campmeetings in the South, and I always marvelled at their loss of control.Now I guess I understand. Hour after hour of what I went through theother night, with the chanting and wailing and the constant rattle ofthose confounded cherry stones, and the terrible heat, and men and womengiving out all about me, and the perpetual thud-thud of bare feet--ugh!I wouldn't go through it again for ten thousand dollars."
"I thought it best not to warn you of the severity of it beforehand,"she announced complacently. "Very few white men have ever danced thefire dance, and only one or two have held out to the end. Of coursefailure to do so signifies that the powers working against theaffiliation are too strong to be overcome. These men who failed, then,did not become brothers of the Showut Poche-dakas."
"Lucky devils!"
"Here, here!" she cried. "Don't talk that way. You're glad, aren't you?"
"I'm tickled half to death."
"Is it possible that you do not take this seriously, Mr. Drew?"
"Look here," he said: "why didn't you tell me more of what I mightexpect at this fool performance?"
"I was afraid you might look at the matter much as you're looking at itnow," she answered. "I knew you'd go through with it, though, if youonce got started. I knew it to be a terrible ordeal, but I was confidentthat you would win."
"I thank you, I'm sure. Win what, though? The reputation of being ahalf-baked simpleton?"
"Do you imagine that the white people who saw you are ridiculing you?"
"Aren't they?"
"Absolutely nothing of the sort! You're the hero of the hour. Peopleabout here always attend the fiestas, and you'll be surprised to notethe seriousness and lack of levity that they show in regard to the ritesand ceremonies of the Showut Poche-dakas. It's an inheritance from theold days, I suppose, when the few white men who were here found itdecidedly to their advantage to be friendly with the Indians. They gloryin your grit, and everybody is talking about you. You should have heardOld Man Selden. 'There's a regular man,' he loudly informed every oneafter the dance. And folks about here listen to what Old Man Seldensays, for one reason or another."
"But it was such an asinine proceeding!"
"Was it? I thought you respected the other fellow's beliefs andreligious practices."
"Was that a religious dance?"
"Decidedly. All of their dances are religious at bottom. You were tryingto overcome the evil spirit, represented by the fire, that stood betweenyou and your union with the Showut Poche-dakas. You are one of the fewwho have weathered this ordeal and won. And now you're a recognizedmember of the tribe."
"And is that an enviable distinction?"
"What do _you_ think about that?"
Oliver was silent a time. "Tell the truth," he said at last, "I've beenthinking more of my sore muscles and scorched legs, and of theridiculous figure I supposed I had cut the other night. I suppose,though, that when a hundred or more fellow creatures unanimously admit arank outsider to the plane of brotherhood, one would be shallow mindedindeed to look upon it too lightly."
"Exactly. Just what I wanted to hear you say. And the more simplenatured and trusting they are, the more it devolves upon you to treattheir brotherhood with respect and reverence. You are now brother to theShowut Poche-dakas; and you'll be a wiser man before you're older bymany days. In this little village you have always a refuge, no matterwhat the world outside may do to you. Nothing that you could do againstyour own race can make you an utter outcast, for here are your brothers,always eager to shelter you. If you owned a cow and lost it, a word fromyou would send fifty mounted men scouring the hills till the cow hadbeen found and restored to you. Will the people of your own race dothat? If the forest was burning throughout the country, rest assuredyour property would be made safe before your brothers turned theirefforts to protecting the homes of other white men. Is it trivial, myfriend?"
"No," said Oliver shortly.
"You have been greatly honoured," she concluded. "You are the firstwhite man on record who has been adopted by the Showut Poche-dakaswithout first marrying an Indian girl. And even then they must win outin the fire dance. If they fail, their brides must go away with them,ostracized from their people for ever."
"How many white men have been honoured with membership?" he asked.
"Very few. Old Dad Sloan was over and saw the dance. He always attendsfiestas if some one will give him a ride. He said after the dance thathe knew of only three white men before you who had won brotherhood,though he had seen a dozen or more try for it."
"Did he mention any names?"
"Yes," she said. "He mentioned Old Man Selden, for one."
"Does he belong to the tribe?" cried Oliver.
"No, he fell down in the fire dance. He had married an Indian woman, andafter the dance he took his bride away with him. She died six monthsafterward--pining for her people, it was supposed."
"And who else did he speak about?"
"You remember the name of Dan Smeed, of course."
"'Outlaw, highwayman, squawman,'" quoted Oliver, trying to imitate theold '49er's quavery tones.
"Yes," she said. "He conquered the fire and was admitted to fullbrotherhood."
"And got gems for his bridle _conchas_," Oliver added.
Jessamy nodded. "And in some mysterious manner paved the way for you tobecome adopted thirty years later."
He turned and looked her directly in the eyes. "Was Dan Smeed myfather?" he asked abruptly.
Her eyes did not evade his, but a slow flush mounted to her cheeks.
"I think we may safely assume that that is the case," she told himsoftly.
Oliver stared at the beaten
ground under his feet."Outlaw--highwayman--squawman!" he muttered.
Quickly she rose and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't! Don't!" shepleaded sympathetically. "Don't think of that! Wait!"
"Wait? Wait for what?"
"Wait till the Showut Poche-dakas have taken you into full confidence.Wait for my Hummingbird to speak."
Oliver said nothing.
She waited a little, then resumed her seat and said:
"And the next man that Old Dad Sloan mentioned as having tried the firedance was--guess who?"
"The mysterious Bolivio."
She nodded vigorously, both eyes closed.
"He succeeded?"
"He did."
"And the third man to succeed before me?"
"I forget the name. It is of no consequence so far as our mystery isconcerned."
"_Your_ mystery, you mean," he laughed. "I'm beginning to believe youknow all about it--all about me, about my father and his young-manhooddays."
"Oh, no!" she quickly protested.
"But you know more than I do. And you see fit to make mystery of it tomy confusion."
"Silly! I'm doing nothing of the sort. I've positively told you all Ican."
"Be careful, now! Can, will, or may?"
"Don't pin me down. You know I'm a feeble dissembler."
"You've told me all you _may_, then," he said with conviction.
"Have it that way if you choose. How about some breakfast?--and thenyour triumphal entry into the festivities?"
"I hate to show myself--actually."
"Pooh! I'm disappointed in you. Come on--I've ordered breakfast for usin the restaurant booth. Red-hot chili dishes and _bellota_. It shouldbe ready by now."
The Showut Poche-dakas, at least, paid very little attention to Oliveras he limped from the _ramada_ at Jessamy's side. But he wascongratulated by white men on every hand, among them Mr. Damon Tamroy,the first friend he had made in the country.
"I wish you could 'a' heard what Old Dad Sloan had to say after thedance," was Tamroy's greeting. "The dance got the old man started, andhe opened up a little. Selden wasn't about at the time, and Dad saidthat once, years ago, Selden married a squaw and made a try at the firedance. There was two dances that night, Old Dad said. Selden's partner,too, married an Indian girl, and both of 'em danced. Selden's partnerwon out, and was made a member o' the tribe; but Selden fell down."
"Did you get this partner's name?" asked Oliver.
"Le's see--what was the name Dad said?"
"Smeed?" asked Oliver.
"That's it. Dave Smeed. No--Dan Smeed. This Smeed lived with the tribeafterwards, it seems, but Selden and his girl beat it, accordin' to therules, and--"
"Sh!" warned Oliver. "Here comes Old Man Selden now."
The old monarch of the hills strode straight up to them, rowelswhirring, chaps whistling.
"Howdy, Mr. Drew--howdy!" he boomed. "Howdy, Tamroy." He extended ahorny hand to each.
"Some dance, as they say--some dance," he went on admiringly, and therewas almost a smile on his stern features. "The boys was bettin' on howit would come out. The odds was ag'in ye, Mr. Drew. But I told 'em ye'dhold out. I been through the mill myself. Might as well own up, sinceeverybody knows it now--and that I danced to a fare-you-well, but felldown hard. When ye gonta' pull yer freight, Mr. Drew?"
"I thought of riding home today," said Oliver.
"I was just talkin' to Jess'my," Selden continued. "Her and me concludedthis here'd be a good time to invite ye over to get acquainted. Can't yeride to Poison Oak Ranch with us just as well as ye can ride on home?"He tried to grin, but the effort seemed to cause pain.
Toward them Oliver saw Jessamy walking. He always had admired her long,confident stride, and he watched her throughout the brief space allowedhim by courtesy to study his answer to her step-father. Then he caughther eye. She began nodding vigorously.
"I should have watered my garden before coming to the fiesta," he toldthe old man. "I'm afraid it will suffer if I don't get back to itdirectly. But--"
"Oh, she'll stand it another day. Folks irrigate too much, anyway. Ridehome with us today and stay all night."
"I thank you, I'm sure," said Oliver.
"Yes, do come, Mr. Drew," put in Jessamy as she reached the group.
"Just so!" added Selden.
And so it was arranged.
The four stood in conversation. Over the girl's shoulder Oliver now sawDigger Foss and two of the men who had ridden with Selden the day hecalled at the cabin. They were staring at their chief and Jessamy. Aglowering look was on the face of at least one of them, and that one wasthe halfbreed, Digger Foss.
He stood with feet planted far apart, his fists on his hips--squat, hisbullet head juked forward aggressively, his Mongolic black eyesglittering. A sneer curled his lips. He nodded now and then as one orthe other of his companions spoke to him, but he did not reply and didnot remove his steadfast glance from the group of which Oliver made one.
"They's a hoss race comin' off in a little," Selden was saying. "We'llstay for that, then throw on the saddles and cut the dust for therancho."
Here Foss, with a shrug of his wide, strong shoulders, turned away anddisappeared in the crowd, his companions following at his heels.
Presently Selden and Tamroy left Jessamy and Oliver together.
"What's the idea?" Oliver asked her.
"It's quite apparent that he wants to be friendly with you," she pointedout.
"It's just as well, of course," said he. "But I can't fathom it. And atleast one of the Poison Oakers doesn't approve. I just saw Digger Fossglowering at us from behind Old Man Selden's back."
Jessamy elevated her dark eyebrows. "No, he wouldn't approve," shedeclared. "That's merely because of me, I guess. Well, we can't helpthat. It's your part to play up to Old Man Selden and find out what isthe cause of his sudden change of heart toward you."
"It's my riding outfit," he averred. "That, and the fact that I'vedanced the fire dance. I'm gradually picking up a thread here and there.By the way, you neglected to tell me this morning, when we were on thesubject, that Dan Smeed's partner was none other than Old Man Selden."
She glanced at him quickly. "I see that Mr. Damon Tamroy is in charactertoday. He does love to talk, doesn't he?"
"You knew it, then?"
She hesitated. "Yes--Old Dad Sloan let it out last night," she admitted."I think he would have told me as much the day you and I called on himif he hadn't thought it might hurt my feelings. I don't think it was hisforgetfulness that made him trip over the subject that day."
"But if he mentioned it in your presence after the fire dance, he musthave forgotten that you are vitally interested."
Her long black lashes hid her eyes for an instant. "That's true," sheadmitted.
Oliver smiled grimly to himself. A lover would have small excuse fordistrusting this girl, he thought, for deception was not in her. Alittle later he left her and sought out Damon Tamroy again.
"Just a question," he began: "You know I'm seeking information of apeculiar character in this country; so don't think me impertinent. Yousaid that Old Man Selden wasn't about when Dad Sloan spoke of him ashaving been the partner of Dan Smeed."
Tamroy nodded. "He'd gone to bed in one o' the _ramadas_," he said.
"Did Jessamy Selden overhear Old Dad Sloan when he told that?"
"No, she wasn't there either," replied Tamroy. "I reckon she'd gone tobed too."
"Thank you," Oliver returned.
He knew now that Jessamy Selden had merely been repeating some oneelse's version of Dad Sloan's disclosures. He knew that she had beenaware all along that Dan Smeed, his father, had been the partner of AdamSelden. Had she known it, though, the day she questioned the patriarch?It had seemed that she was trying her utmost to make him mention thename of Dan Smeed's partner. Perhaps she had felt safe in the beliefthat, out of consideration for her feelings, Dad Sloan would not coupleher step-father's name with that of a "highwayman, outlaw, and squawman"who,
he had said, was a "bad egg."
Oliver was beginning to believe that Jessamy Selden at that very momentknew the question that had puzzled Peter Drew for thirty years, and whatthe answer to it should be. He believed that Jessamy had known just whohe was, and why he had come into the Clinker Creek Country, the day sherode down to make his acquaintance. It seemed that she had considered ita part of her life's work to seek him out. Later, she had worried alittle for fear he might think her bold in riding to his cabin as shehad done.
She had not been seeking his companionship because she liked him, then.There was some ulterior motive that was governing her actions. In himpersonally, perhaps, she had no interest whatever. There was some secretconnected with Old Man Selden, and it dated back to the days when Seldenand Oliver Drew's father were partners, and had both married Indiangirls. Jessamy had stumbled on this, and when Oliver came she had knownthe reason that brought him, and had made haste to ally herself with himin order to carry out whatever she had in mind. It was this that hadkept her in such close touch with him--not friendship for Oliverhimself.
Oliver brooded. The thought hurt him. The damage had been done. He hadlearned all this too late. He loved her now, and wanted her more than hewanted anything else in life. She knew he loved her. She must know thathe was not the sort to tell her what he had told her if he had not meantit, and to grasp her in his arms and kiss her, even under the strangecondition in which the scene had occurred. Not a word had passed betweenthem regarding that episode since he had blushingly apologized for hisbehaviour. She had taken it quite serenely, as she seemed to take mostthings in life, and had displayed no confusion when next they met.
"You look so funny," she remarked when he at last sought her out afterthe pony race. "Is anything the matter?"
"Nothing at all," he told her. "I'm going for our _caballos_ now. Seldenand the boys are saddling up. I suppose we'll all ride together."
A little later he shook the withered hand of Chupurosa Hatchinguish andbade him good-bye in Spanish. The chief of the Showut Poche-dakas calledhim brother, and patted his back in a fatherly manner as he followed himto the door of his hovel. But he made no mention of a future meeting,and said nothing more than "brother" to indicate that a new relationexisted between them.
Oliver led Poche and White Ann to Jessamy, and they swung into thesaddles and galloped to where Old Man Selden, Hurlock, and Bolar wereawaiting them in the dusty road.
Hours later the little party of five rode over the baldpate hill, thenin single-file formation descended by the steep trail to the bed of theAmerican River. A half-hour afterward they entered the cup in themountainside, and Oliver Drew looked for the first time upon theheadquarters of the Poison Oakers.
The girl, Selden, and Oliver left their saddles at the door, and theboys rode on and led their horses to the corrals. Oliver was conductedinto the immense main room of the old log house, where he was presentedby the girl to her mother.
The afternoon was nearly gone, and the two women at once began preparingsupper, while Old Man Selden and his guest sat and smoked near a windowflooded with the reflection of the sunset glow on fleecy clouds abovethe canyon.
Selden's talk was of cows and grazing conditions and allied topics.Oliver Drew, half listening and putting in a stray comment now and then,watched Jessamy in a role which was new to him.
She had put on a spotless red-checkered gingham dress that fittedperfectly, and revealed slim, rounded, womanly outlines which are theheritage of strength and perfect health. Her black hair was coiledloosely on top of her head, and a large red rose looked as if Nature haddesigned it to splash its vivid colour against that ebony background.With long, sure strides this girl of the mountains moved silently aboutfrom the great glossy range to the work table, washing crisp lettuce,deftly beheading snappy radishes, her slim fingers now white with doughand flour, or stirring with a large spoon in some steaming utensil overthe fire. An extra fine dinner was in progress of preparation in honourof the Seldens' guest; yet the girl worked serenely and swiftly, withnot a false move, not a flutter of excitement, never gathering so muchas a spot on her crisp, stiff dress, always sure of herself, master ofher diversified tasks. Was this the girl that an hour before he had seenso gracefully astride in a fifty-pound California saddle, her slim legscovered by scarred, fringed chaps, her black hair streaming to thebottom of her saddle skirts in two long, thick braids? There was adesperate tugging at the heart-strings of Oliver Drew. He knew now thatif he failed to win this girl it were better for him had he not beenborn. And again and again she had sought him out for some obscure reasonin no way connected with a desire for his companionship. He thoughtagain of the episode on the hill after the rattlesnake bite, and he grewsick at heart at remembrance of the feel of those soft, firm lips.
When they arose from the bounteous meal Selden said to his guest:
"It's still light outdoors. Wanta look over the ranch a bit?"
They two strolled out to the stables and talked horses and saddles. Theylooked perfunctorily over the green young fruit in the orchard, andSelden showed Oliver the new pipe line which now carried spring waterinto all three of the living houses. They killed time till latetwilight, and as one by one the stars came out the old man led the wayto a prostrate pine at the edge of a fern patch. On it they seatedthemselves.
"They was little matter I wanted to talk to you about," said Selden halfapologetically. "Le's have a smoke and see if we can't come to anunderstandin'. Just so! Just so!"
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