The White Hunter

by Gilbert, Morris

  “I guess you were busy playing ball, maybe baseball.”

  “N-no.”

  “What! You didn’t play baseball? A tall fellow like you! Why, I’m surprised to hear it!”

  Jeb Winslow was embarrassed. He was, at the age of nineteen, rather tall at six feet, but he was very thin and had never been particularly good at sports. Perhaps the truth of the matter was that he didn’t much care for them. All his life he had loved to read, but only when he had gone to Virginia with his sister and his adopted father did he have a chance to do so. Aaron and his mother, Belle Winslow, had seen that he had all the books he wanted, and for the past months he had soaked himself in them. Now he said rather hesitantly, “I guess maybe I should have played ball, but I was busy reading books.”

  “Well, that’s good, too.” Brown looked up and said, “We’re coming in to Waymore. That’s your stop. Better get your stuff together, Jeb.”

  Jeb already had his belongings packed firmly in his suitcase, and now he sat there staring avidly out the window, wondering what it would be like to meet his relatives. He was aware, of course, that they were not really his relatives, but somehow he longed to put himself into the Winslow family. He had promised himself more than once, If I can’t be a Winslow by blood, I can be one in other ways. He had heard so much about Cody and Laurie, who were real westerners and pioneers. Cody had been a cowboy and still was, for that matter, although he now owned a ranch along with his wife, Laurie. The couple had actually toured as performers with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show—Cody as a trick-rope artist and Laurie as a trick-shot artist. He knew little about them, except the stories he had picked up from the family, and now he looked forward to meeting them, along with their daughter, Annie, and her brother, Bill.

  “Waymore—Waymore! All out for Waymore!”

  The wheels began to grind harshly, and Jeb stared out the window anxiously. There was nothing much in the way of a town that he could see—merely a few buildings, not more than a dozen, scattered on the Wyoming plain. As the train ground to a stop, however, he saw a family standing there and knew at once that these were the Winslows. Scrambling to his feet, he moved down the aisle, bumping into a farmer, who gave him an irritated look and said, “Stop shoving, bud!”

  “Sorry,” Jeb murmured. He moved more slowly then, and when he stepped down, the conductor shook his hand.

  “Take care of yourself now. Don’t let any of those wild Indians get you.”

  “I won’t, Mr. Brown.”

  Turning toward the couple and the young girl that stood there, Jeb suddenly was struck with an acute shyness. He had led a hard life on the streets, getting into trouble, and now his attempt to make himself appear something more than a street tough proved very difficult. He knew his grammar was bad, and although his sister and Aaron worked on it a great deal with him, he still felt awkward when he talked. In truth, he was a shy young man who was being forced into a new life, and his shyness was sometimes taken for aloofness.

  “Well, now, I’ll bet my saddle your name is Winslow.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jeb looked up into the bronze face of the man who, smiling broadly, approached and took his hand. “I’m Jeb Winslow.”

  “Well, I’m Cody Rogers and this is my wife, Laurie, and my daughter, Annie. Mighty glad to see you, Jeb.”

  Jeb took the hand of the woman who approached with a warm smile.

  “We are happy to have you, Jeb. Did you have a good trip?” Laurie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, Annie, don’t be bashful. Say hello to your cousin,” Cody winked.

  “Hello, I’m Annie.”

  “Hello.” Jeb could not think of another single thing to say. He had known nothing about this young woman except her name was Annie and that she was fifteen. She was a very attractive young woman with bright red hair and large blue eyes. He met her eyes for a moment and noted that they were almond shaped and shaded with thick, dark lashes. Her nose turned up slightly in an appealing manner. His sharp eyes picked out the birthmark on the left side of her neck, and he understood at once why she kept it turned away. Why . . . she’s ashamed of that birthmark, he thought. He was very quick at understanding people, a skill he had developed on the steets of New York. Somehow the fact that she had a flaw made him feel more comfortable, although he could not tell why.

  As for Annie, she was somewhat surprised at the appearance of her “kissing cousin,” as her father had called him. She had not known exactly what to expect, but Jeb Winslow did not fit her idea of a city boy. He was pale enough, to be sure, but also tall and very thin. He wore a pair of dark blue slacks with a white shirt and a string tie. He had brown hair that was slightly curly, and his face was so lean that he looked almost hungry. His nose had obviously been broken, and his large ears made Annie think, It’s a good thing they lie flat against his head or he’d look like a bat. He was, in fact, rather plain, but then he smiled at her, a crooked smile, and his eyes crinkled up.

  “I’m glad to know you, Annie. I hope I won’t be any trouble to you, or to you, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

  “Nonsense,” Laurie said. “Now, come along. We’re going to have to hurry to get back before dark.”

  Jeb had half expected an automobile, for he knew the Rogers were moderately successful ranchers. When they got to the wagon Cody shook his head, saying, “Couldn’t get the car started, Jeb. Here, you want to drive us home?”

  “Oh no!” Jeb said with alarm. “I don’t know how to drive.”

  “Why, that’s funny,” Annie said with surprise. “I thought everybody could drive a team.”

  “Annie, be quiet. Jeb comes from the city,” her father said as he lifted Jeb’s trunk into the back of the wagon.

  “They have teams in the city, don’t they? How do you get around there, Jeb?” Annie asked.

  “Why, I mostly walk, now that I don’t live in New York anymore.”

  “How did you get around in New York?” Annie probed. She sat down beside him and was studying him carefully. “You had to go some way.”

  “Why, I mostly walked then, too, to be truthful,” Jeb said. He felt intimidated by Annie Rogers’ penetrating questions. In truth, he felt completely out of place in the West and had determined to say little until he found his way around. As the wagon moved out of town, he found himself growing more and more withdrawn until finally he said nothing at all except to mumble an answer to a direct question.

  Annie also grew silent as the journey progressed, and when they had reached the house and gotten inside, she whispered to her mother, “Mama, he’s just plain stuck-up.”

  “I don’t think so,” Laurie said, taking off her bonnet and hanging it on a peg. She kept her voice down so Jeb, who was being shown around the first floor of the house by Cody, could not hear. “I think he’s just a little bit out of place. He’s never been in the West before. Think how awkward you’d feel if you were thrown into a big city.”

  Annie did not answer, but she had a reservation about her cousin that she did not speak to her mother.

  At that moment Cody popped his head around the frame of the kitchen door and said, “Hey, Annie, why don’t you show Jeb to his room? You two can get better acquainted.”

  “All right, Daddy.”

  Turning sharply, Annie moved toward the stairs. Jeb followed her silently, and when they had reached the top, she motioned toward a door. “That’ll be your room while you’re here.” She moved forward, opened the door, and Jeb stepped in.

  “It looks like someone lives here,” Jeb said as he took in the room.

  “Well, it’s my brother Bill’s room, but he’s not here and won’t be for quite a while.”

  “Where is he?” Jeb asked. The room was large and airy with a set of double windows on the north wall. The furnishings were simple enough: an iron bed with what appeared to be a feather mattress, two chairs, and an oak desk. There were pictures on the wall, some of them of Annie, he saw, that brightened up the room. He turned to ask, “
Is he gone away to school?”

  “No, he’s on a trip around the world on a ship. The Marybelle.”

  “Really!” Jeb murmured, filled with envy. “Is he a sailor?” His curiosity was taken at once and he moved to stand before Annie. “That would be exciting.”

  “He just wanted to do something adventurous,” Annie shrugged. “So he pestered Mama and Daddy for a year until they finally let him go. Daddy knew the chief officer of the ship, Captain Evans. He promised to look out for Bill.”

  “Where is it going? The ship, I mean.”

  “Oh, it sailed first to South America, and then it’s going on to Africa.” Her eyes began to glow, and she said, “I’d love to see Africa. I’m going there someday.”

  “What would you do in Africa?” Jeb asked cautiously.

  “I’d be a missionary,” she answered matter-of-factly. “I might work with my cousins who are there, Barney and Andrew Winslow, and my aunt Ruth and her husband, Doctor David Burns.”

  “Hey, I know him.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. My sister worked with him in New York. He’s a good friend of mine.” Jeb continued, “I’ve read a lot about Africa. It sounds like such an exciting place.”

  “I would love to hear all about it! I’ll tell you what. You tell me all about Africa, and I’ll help you learn a little bit about the West. Can you ride a horse?”

  “No. Never been on one.”

  “I’ll teach you,” Annie said quickly. “Now, let’s talk about Africa. . . .”

  ****

  The next morning at breakfast Annie immediately began telling her parents that Jeb knew a lot about Africa.

  Laurie listened as Jeb explained about Doctor Burns, who had been a special friend of his and was now serving there.

  “Well, the Winslows are well represented in Africa—for missionary work, that is. I’m especially proud of my younger sister, Ruth. I know she got a good husband in David Burns.”

  As Laurie spoke of Winslow families in Africa, the others ate with gusto. Breakfast was a huge meal, consisting of buckwheat pancakes, sausage, scrambled eggs, fresh buttermilk biscuits, tall glasses of cold milk, and hot coffee. Soon some of the conversation drifted around to the matters of the Rogers’ household.

  Cody shoved a biscuit in his mouth and chewed it, then shook his head with disgust. “Laurie, I got to go in and argue with that fellow about our insurance policy. We may have to change companies.”

  Laurie looked over at Cody, asking, “What’s wrong with it?”

  “I don’t know. Who can understand those things with all that little print? It’s impossible to read! I’m going to make him tell me exactly what you get in case I go up the flue.”

  “Daddy, don’t talk like that!” Annie said.

  “Well, maybe I need to put it a little better,” Cody smiled apologetically. “But I’ve got to go talk to him, anyhow.” He washed the biscuit down with a huge draft of black coffee and shook his head. “I wonder who started all this insurance business anyway.”

  “I think it was a man named William Gibbons.”

  The three Rogerses all turned to look at Jeb with astonishment. “How did you know that?” Cody demanded.

  “Oh, I read about it somewhere. I just remembered it.”

  “A man called Gibbons?” Annie asked. “Where was he from?”

  “London,” Jeb said. He thought hard for a moment and said, “He had his life insurance for thirty-eight pounds at a premium of eight percent per annum.”

  Silence hung over the room for a moment and Jeb’s face flushed. He felt he had been showing off. “I saw it in some book, I’m sure. Don’t know why it came to mind.”

  “When did all this take place, Jeb?” Cody asked.

  “In 1583.”

  Laurie suddenly laughed aloud. “Well, I can see it’s going to be handy having you around, Jeb, if you know things like that. I can never remember who’s the secretary of state or anything like that.”

  “For some reason, I remember. I read a lot,” Jeb said his cheeks flushing.

  As everyone continued to eat, Annie stared at Jeb and asked him more about his avid interest in reading. Jeb, however, felt humiliated and said as little as he could. After breakfast was over, Annie announced, “Mama, I’m going to go give Jeb a riding lesson. Daddy, will you help her with the dishes?”

  “No, I won’t. You help with the dishes, and I’ll go out and saddle up horses for both of you.”

  The next portion of the day was a torture for Jeb Winslow. The horse that Cody Rogers saddled for him was a tall, rangy animal with what Jeb considered an evil look in his eye, and as it happened, it seemed he could do nothing right.

  “No, you can’t get on from that side. You have to mount from the other side,” Annie said. She swung into the saddle easily, as she had been doing almost every day of her life since she was a young child.

  Jeb had difficulty putting his foot in the stirrup, and when he did try to swing his leg over, the horse sidestepped quickly and he lost his hold on the horn. His foot was hung in the stirrup, and he called out with alarm as the tall sorrel dragged him through the dust of the corral. Instantly Annie was out of her saddle and catching the reins of the sorrel.

  “Here, let me help you get your foot out of there.”

  Jeb lay flat on his back, feeling like an idiot. When his foot was finally free, he stood up and his face was flaming. “I can’t do this,” he whispered.

  “Why, sure you can,” Annie insisted. “It’s just something new to you.”

  Jeb swallowed hard. He knew he had to try, and while Annie held the horse still, he struggled and pulled himself on.

  “You’ve got long legs and your stirrups are too short. Let me lengthen them.”

  Jeb sat atop the horse holding the reins so tightly his knuckles hurt. Finally the stirrup length suited Annie, and she swung back into the saddle, smiling. “Now, we’ll take it easy.”

  That proved to be impossible, for Jeb’s horse took a notion to run. He suddenly lunged forward, and although Jeb hauled back on the lines, the horse had the bit firmly clenched in his teeth. “Hang on, Jeb! Don’t fall!” Annie yelled. She kicked her own horse in the flank, and the two raced out of the yard.

  Cody looked up to see them and laughed, saying, “Well, he’s learning to ride right fast.”

  But the riding lesson did not continue very long. When Annie finally grabbed the reins on Jeb’s horse and slowed him down, she said, “He’s got the bit in his teeth. You have to hold him tight or he’ll run away, Jeb.”

  “I’ve had about enough of this,” Jeb protested.

  With surprise, Annie looked at Jeb. “Well, you’ve got to learn to ride.”

  “I know it, but I feel so . . . so stupid.”

  Annie had never seen a young man who could not ride. All of her friends could. Everyone she knew could, but she tried her best to keep this knowledge from showing in her eyes. “We’ll just go at a slow walk. It’ll be okay.”

  Jeb hung on grimly and actually even managed to control the horse a little. But when they finally rode back into the corral, he got off awkwardly and walked away without even saying a word to Annie.

  Cody ambled out of the barn where he had been working and stood beside Annie. “I take it he didn’t like riding too much.”

  “He’s afraid of horses, Daddy. I can’t believe it.”

  “Well,” Cody said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder, “most of us are afraid of something. Some are afraid of snakes, some don’t like being in high places, and some people are scared to get stuck in small quarters. With Jeb maybe it’s horses, but don’t put him down for that, honey.”

  Looking up at her father, Annie was silent for a moment. “He sure is different, Daddy.”

  Cody Rogers put his arm around his daughter and hugged her. “We’re all different, Annie. God made us that way. You have to take Jeb as you find him, just like people have to take you right where you are. And me—you’ve got to tak
e me just like I am. You can’t trade me in on a new dad.”

  Annie laughed and reached up to kiss him, but all that day she wondered at how different she and Jeb were. Well . . . he’s East and I’m West—She finally shrugged. I guess he finds me as odd as I’m finding him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Awakening

  Somehow it seemed to Jeb Winslow that the hard blue sky of Wyoming was very different from that of New York. As a matter of fact, he had seldom looked up at the sky in the city. In the slums of the lower East Side, the dirty, gray buildings shut out the sun. True enough, when he had moved to Virginia, he had learned to admire the green valleys and the high rolling hills of the Shenandoah, but there the sky had seemed softer and milder than the one he looked up at now, craning his neck and blinking his eyes against the brilliant sunlight.

  “Is Montana much different from Wyoming, Annie?” Jeb asked. As he spoke he turned to look at his companion. The two of them had left Annie’s home and had been traveling on the spur lines that were much rougher than the main corridors of steel that led from the East in St. Louis all the way to San Francisco. As he spoke, he was aware of the clickety clack of the rails and the swaying of the cars and commented further, “The tracks are a lot rougher than they were when I was coming to where you live.”

  Closing the Bible she had been reading and holding her finger for a marker, Annie glanced out the window. She was wearing a calf-length light blue chambray dress with short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, with small brass buttons running down the front, and her hair caught the reflection of the sunlight that streamed through the car. “I think it’s a lot higher,” she said finally, “with more mountains.” As she gazed at the barren landscape, she added with a shrug of her shoulders, “Desert’s desert wherever you find it, I guess, Jeb. It probably looks pretty barren to you after New York.”

  “I don’t think much about New York anymore.”

  “Why? Didn’t you like it there?”

  “No.”

  Annie’s attention was caught by the single, bleak monosyllable. She studied Jeb’s face, noting, not for the first time, how lean it was and wondered what he would look like when he filled out into manhood. He had said very little about his early childhood, but she had learned from her mother, who had in turn learned it from some of the Winslows in New York, that Jeb had been practically a gang member for a time. She learned also that his father had been a drunken brute who had victimized his family. It was no wonder Jeb never spoke of him. He had, however, mentioned his mother warmly, but he spoke more often of his time in Virginia with his sister and his adopted father, Aaron Winslow.