XXIV.
THE RECKLESS HAND OF FATE.
The day was fair when Carson left Saguache with pretty Annie Amosseated beside him in the sleigh. Although he had spent the night infearful anxiety, walking the streets, he now felt such a relief overgetting out of town, undiscovered by Mary Greenwater, that he wasbubbling over with high spirits. In the presence of Annie his betternature stood outward and he even surprised himself with his quicksallies of wit and repartee. Annie was charmed with his presence, andas the two chatted gaily, they did not notice the lowering cloudsabout the Spanish Peaks, until a strong wind began to raise and soonone of those sudden storms so common to the region was coming in allits fury. In a short while it became a raging blizzard. The snowdrifted in blinding swirls, so dense that the horse's head could notbe seen.
Carson had experienced the blizzard on the range and knew the onlysafe course was to let the horse have the reins, and trust to itsanimal instinct to find a shelter. He drew the robes securely aboutAnnie and endeavored to allay her fears, although conscious of theperil they were in. The horse was plodding its way through thesnow-drifts and it was evident that the animal would soon becomeexhausted. The blizzard might last all night, or it might continue forthree days. On those trackless wastes in such a storm death byfreezing was almost certain, unless they reached a place of shelter.The hours dragged by. He kept up an incessant talking with Annie, lestshe should fall into the fatal sleep. The girl was quick to perceivehis tender care, and in full apprehension of their danger, felt agrowing confidence in the man beside her. She knew that he fullyrealized their peril and admired him for his efforts to conceal hisfears from her.
It was growing darker and the horse was moving with feeble steps.Carson was at the point of giving vent to his fears, when the animalstopped. He left the sleigh, and upon going to the horse's head, foundthey were beside a cabin. His heart gave a great leap of joy and hecalled exultantly to Annie.
The cabin was deserted, but, praise Providence, it was shelter. Thedoor swung open on its hinges. There was a fireplace with somehalf-burned logs in a heap of ashes. When Annie was securely inside,he brought in the robes from the sleigh and next unhitched the horseand brought the animal inside the cabin. This made Annie's heart leapwith joy; she had not considered how they would protect the horse, andthis humane act on the part of Carson gave her the most implicitconfidence in the man. There is nothing to fear from a man who is sokind to animals, was her mental comment.
Soon there was a blazing fire on the hearth. Some poles were found bythe door. These Carson dug from the snow and brought inside. He hadno axe with which to cut them, and in the emergency, he laid the endstogether in the fire slantwise from the chimney, and as they burnedaway, he shoved the logs forward. The wind screamed in wildest fury,while the snow drifted in through the rough clapboard roof.
Until now no thought had been given to the lunch which Annie hadprepared for the trip. She brought it out from among the wraps andwhen Carson gave the horse a buttered biscuit as his share of themeal, she watched the act with a thrill of gladness. The blazing logsgave warmth and light, and the man and woman sat and talked throughoutthe long watches of the night, while the snow drifted and the windscreamed and roared, making the loose clapboards of the roof creak andgroan.
There these two, thrown together by the reckless hand of fate, toldincidents of their lives and won the love and sympathy of each other.A new song was born in Carson's breast. For a moment he seemed toremember a former life; somewhere out in the wide, white waste andhush of infinite space, where they had known each other and now theirsouls imprisoned in forms of clay, they had met by chance and renewedan old affinity.
As she told him the simple story of her life, he listened withever-increasing interest. An orphan at an early age, she had sincelived in the home of her Uncle Amos. Everything had gone well untilthe last year, when her uncle brought Rayder to their home andinsisted that she should regard him as a suitor for her hand. Rayder,old and grey, had dyed his whiskers and tried to appear boyish. Hisintentions were well enough--he would give her all she would ask thatmoney could purchase--but she could not love the man and could neverthink of becoming his wife. Amos, her uncle, was a man of avarice andgreed. He insisted that it was a duty she owed him for his fatherlycare in bringing her up. He dwelt on the advantages it would be tohim in his old age and that it would be only right for her to help himin this way. He had appealed to her generous nature and sought to makeher believe this sacrifice on her part would be just and right. Amos'wife had taken the same view of the matter and urged that the weddingshould be at an early date. Annie, alone in the world, had no one towhom she could go for counsel. Some of the coarse women of the miningcamp who came to their home thought her the most fortunate of girls tohave a suitor as rich as Rayder, and ridiculed the idea of herrefusing to accept the greatest opportunity of her life. Some of theirhusbands were rough, uncouth men, who cared nothing for the luxuriesof a home, spent most of their money and time drinking and gambling atthe Lone Tree, and they gauged conditions as they were withthemselves. They were honest-hearted women of the frontier whobelieved they were doing the girl a kindness. It was not throughbravery that she was cool and collected, yesterday, in the presenceof death from the lions, she told him, but because she had almost madeup her mind that she did not care. Death had lost its terrors in thecontemplation of impending fate.
He did not tell her of the burden of his heart. He did not feel thathe dared to ask for sympathy. At that hour he would have given tenyears of his life to undo his marriage with Mary Greenwater by theancient custom of the Swiftest Horse. He knew the Indian woman andknew that she intended to kill him and yet he felt helpless,powerless. He did tell the girl beside him that he, too, was alone inthe world and hoped to merit the love of a good woman and that hisevery act in life should go to prove his sincerity. And so, amid thewild scenes of the night, they talked.
At noon the following day, the storm abated and when the flurries ofsnow had ceased they saw the town of Del Norte well down on theplain.
Annie was received at the home of her friends with delight and whenshe told them of her recent adventures, they gave expression toheartfelt joy for Annie's safety, and called Carson a hero.
Carson did not leave Del Norte for six weeks. Meanwhile, Annie visitedher friends. When the two were not together in the cozy parlor atAnnie's host's, Carson kept close in his room at the hotel. He wantedto delay the meeting with Mary Greenwater as long as possible. If shewas only a man,--ah, that would be different! It would then be knifeto knife, or bullet to bullet--he would not shrink. But she was awoman, an educated Indian woman upon whom society had some claim, andshe had some claim upon it.
Annie promised to become his wife and it was arranged that she shouldreturn to her uncle's home, and as soon as he could arrange hisaffairs at the mine they would go to an eastern state. He firstintended, however, to make a clean breast of the Mary Greenwateraffair, and trust his fate to her love for him.
When he reached the foot of the Sangre de Christo range, through thegreat depths of snow, he saw the fearful havoc of the snow slide andnoted the slanting position of the edgewise cliff. Thinking it was ofbut recent occurrence, he hurried to Saguache and gave the alarm thattwo of his companions were buried beneath the mountain of snow.
In no place in the world does an appeal for help meet with a quickerresponse than among the pioneers of the west. The news flew over thetown like wildfire that two miners were imprisoned in a snow slide. Arelief party was organized at once and Carson led them to the base ofthe range.
Mary Greenwater saw Carson organizing the relief, she stood within afew feet of him unobserved, and could have shot him, but she knewbetter than shoot a man in the act of aiding the distressed. The crowdwould hang her, woman or no woman, and she knew it. Some other timethan this--she would wait.
Where Strongest Tide Winds Blew Page 24