XI.
"Hello!" sang out Johnson, genially, as he entered the Girl's cabin.
At once the Girl's audacity and spirit deserted her, and hanging herhead she answered meekly, bashfully:
"Hello!"
The man's eyes swept the Girl's figure; he looked puzzled, and asked:
"Are you--you going out?"
The Girl was plainly embarrassed; she stammered in reply:
"Yes--no--I don't know--Oh, come on in!"
"Thank you," said Johnson in his best manner, and put down his lanternon the table. Turning now with a look of admiration in his eyes, at thesame time trying to embrace her, he went on: "Oh, Girl, I'm so glad youlet me come . . ."
His glance, his tone, his familiarity sent the colour flying to theGirl's cheeks; she flared up instantly, her blue eyes snapping withresentment:
"You stop where you are, Mr. Johnson."
"Ugh!" came from Wowkle, at that moment closing the door which Johnsonhad left ajar.
At the sound of the woman's voice Johnson wheeled round quickly. Andthen, to his great surprise, he saw that the Girl was not alone as hehad expected to find her.
"I beg your pardon; I did not see anyone when I came in," he said inhumble apology, his eyes the while upon Wowkle who, having blown out thecandle and removed the lantern from the table to the floor, wasdirecting her footsteps towards the cupboard, into which she presentlydisappeared, closing the door behind her. "But seeing you standingthere," went on Johnson in explanation, "and looking into your lovelyeyes, well, the temptation to take you in my arms was so great that I,well, I took--"
"You must be in the habit o' takin' things, Mr. Johnson," broke in theGirl. "I seen you on the road to Monterey, goin' an' comin', an' passeda few words with you; I seen you once since, but that don't give you noexcuse to begin this sort o' game." The Girl's tone was one of reproachrather than of annoyance, and for the moment the young man was left witha sense of having committed an indiscretion. Silently, sheepishly, hemoved away, while she quietly went over to the fire.
"Besides, you might have prospected a bit first anyway," presently shewent on, watching the tips of her slender white fingers held outtransparent towards the fire.
Just at that moment a log dropped, turning up its glowing underside.Wheeling round with a smile, Johnson said:
"I see how wrong I was."
And then, seeing that the Girl made no move in his direction, he asked,still smiling:
"May I take off my coat?"
The Girl remained silent, which silence he interpreted as an assent, andwent on to make himself at home.
"Thank you," he said simply. "What a bully little place you have here!It's awfully snug!" he continued delightedly, as his eyes wandered aboutthe room. "And to think that I've found you again when I--Oh, the luckof it!"
He went over to her and held out his hands, a broad, yet kindly smilelighting up his strong features, making him appear handsomer, even, thanhe really was, to the Girl taking in the olive-coloured skin glowingwith healthful pallor.
"Friends?" he asked.
Nevertheless the girl did not give him her hand, but quickly drew itaway; she answered his question with a question:
"Are you sorry?"
"No, I'm not sorry."
To this she made no reply but quietly, disappointedly returned to thefireplace, where she stood in contemplative silence, waiting for hisnext words.
But he did not speak; he contented himself with gazing at the tendergirlishness of her, the blue-black eyes, and flesh that was so brightand pure that he knew it to be soft and firm, making him yearn for her.
Involuntarily she turned towards him, and she saw that in his face whichcaused her eyes to drop and her breath to come more quickly.
"That damme style just catches a woman!" she ejaculated with a littletremour in her voice.
Then her mood underwent a sudden change in marked contrast to that ofthe moment before. "Look here, Mr. Johnson," she said, "down at thesaloon to-night you said you always got what you wanted. O' course I'vegot to admire you for that. I reckon women always do admire men forgettin' what they want. But if huggin' me's included, jest count itout."
For a breathing space there was a dead silence.
"That was a lovely day, Girl, on the road to Monterey, wasn't it?" of asudden Johnson observed dreamily.
The Girl's eyes opened upon him wonderingly.
"Was it?"
"Well, wasn't it?"
The Girl thought it was and she laughed.
"Say, take a chair and set down for a while, won't you?" was her nextremark, she herself taking a chair at the table.
"Thanks," he said, coming slowly towards her while his eyes wanderedabout the room for a chair.
"Say, look 'ere!" she shot out, scrutinising him closely; "I benthinkin' you didn't come to the saloon to see me to-night. What broughtyou?"
"It was Fate," he told her, leaning over the table and looking down uponher admiringly.
She pondered his answer for a moment, then blurted out:
"You're a bluff! It may have been Fate, but I tho't you looked kind o'funny when Rance asked you if you hadn't missed the trail an' wa'n't onthe road to see Nina Micheltorena--she that lives in the greasersettlement an' has the name o' shelterin' thieves."
At the mention of thieves, Johnson paled frightfully and the knife whichhe had been toying with dropped to the floor.
"Was it Fate or the back trail?" again queried the Girl.
"It was Fate," calmly reiterated the man, and looked her fairly in theeye.
The cloud disappeared from the Girl's face.
"Serve the coffee, Wowkle!" she called almost instantly. And then it wasthat she saw that no chair had been placed at the table for him. Shesprang to her feet, exclaiming: "Oh, Lordy, you ain't got no chair yetto--"
"Careful, please, careful," quickly warned Johnson, as she rounded thecorner of the table upon which his guns lay.
But fear was not one of the Girl's emotions. At the display of guns thatmet her gaze she merely shrugged and inquired placidly:
"Oh, how many guns do you carry?"
Not unnaturally she waited for his answer before starting in quest of achair for him; but instead Johnson quietly went over to the chair nearthe door where his coat lay, hung it up on the peg with his hat, andreturning now with a chair, he answered:
"Oh, several when travelling through the country."
"Well, set down," said the Girl bluntly, and hurried to his side toadjust his chair. But she did not return to her place at the table;instead, she took the barrel rocker near the fireplace and began to rocknervously to and fro. In silence Johnson sat studying her, looking herthrough and through, as it were.
"It must be strange living all alone way up here in the mountains," heremarked, breaking the spell of silence. "Isn't it lonely?"
"Lonely? Mountains lonely?" The Girl's laugh rang out clearly. "Besides,"she went on, her eyes fairly dancing with excitement, "I got a littlepinto an' I'm all over the country on 'im. Finest little horse you eversaw! If I want to I can ride right down into the summer at the foothillswith miles o' Injun pinks jest a-laffin' an' tiger lilies as mad asblazes. There's a river there, too--the Injuns call it a water-road--an'I can git on that an' drift an' drift an' smell the wild syringa on thebanks. An if I git tired o' that I can turn my horse up-grade an' gallopright into the winter an' the lonely pines an' firs a-whisperin' an'a-sighin'. Lonely? Mountains lonely, did you say? Oh, my mountains, mybeautiful peaks, my Sierras! God's in the air here, sure! You can seeHim layin' peaceful hands on the mountain tops. He seems so near youwant to let your soul go right on up."
Johnson was touched at the depth of meaning in her words; he nodded hishead in appreciation.
"I see, when you die you won't have far to go," he quietly observed.
Minutes passed before either spoke. Then all at once the Girl rose andtook the chair facing his, the table between them as at first.
"Wowkle, serve the cof
fee!" again she called.
Immediately, Wowkle emerged from the cupboard, took the coffee-pot fromthe fire and filled the cups that had been kept warm on the fireplacebase, and after placing a cup beside each plate she squatted down beforethe fire in watchful silence.
"But when it's very cold up here, cold, and it snows?" queried Johnson,his admiration for the plucky, quaint little figure before him growingby leaps and bounds.
"Oh, the boys come up an' digs me out o' my front door like--like--" Shepaused, her sunny laugh rippling out at the recollection of it all, andJohnson noted the two delightful dimples in her rounded cheeks. Indeed,she had never appeared prettier to him than when displaying her two rowsof perfect, dazzling teeth, which was the case every time that shelaughed.
"--like a little rabbit, eh?" he supplemented, joining in the laugh.
She nodded eagerly.
"I get digged out near every day when the mine's shet down an' Academyopens," went on the Girl in the same happy strain, her big blue eyesdancing with merriment.
Johnson looked at her wonderingly; he questioned:
"Academy? Here? Why, who teaches in your Academy?"
"Me--I'm her--I'm teacher," she told him with not a little show ofpride.
With difficulty Johnson suppressed a smile; nevertheless he observedsoberly:
"Oh, so you're the teacher?"
"Yep--I learn m'self an' the boys at the same time," she hastened toexplain, and dropped a heaping teaspoon of coarse brown sugar into hiscup. "But o' course Academy's suspended when ther's a blizzard on 'causeno girl could git down the mountain then."
"Is it so very severe here when there's a blizzard on?" Johnson wassaying, when there came to his ears a strange sound--the sound of thewind rising in the canyon below.
The Girl looked at him in blank astonishment--a look that might easilyhave been interpreted as saying, "Where do you hail from?" She answered:
"Is it . . .? Oh, Lordy, they come in a minute! All of a sudden youdon't know where you are--it's awful!"
"Not many women--" digressed the man, glancing apprehensively towardsthe door, but she cut him short swiftly with the ejaculation:
"Bosh!" And picking up a plate she raised it high in the air the betterto show off its contents. "Charlotte rusks an' lemming turnover!" sheannounced, searching his face for some sign of joy, her own facelighting up perceptibly.
"Well, this is a treat!" cried out Johnson between sips of coffee.
"Have one?"
"You bet!" he returned with unmistakable pleasure in his voice.
The Girl served him with one of each, and when he thanked her she beamedwith happiness.
"Let me send you some little souvenir of to-night"--he said, a littlewhile later, his admiring eyes settled on her hair of burnished goldwhich glistened when the light fell upon it--"something that you'd justlove to read in your course of teaching at the Academy." He paused tosearch his mind for something suitable to suggest to her; at length hequestioned: "Now, what have you been reading lately?"
The Girl's face broke into smiles as she answered:
"Oh, it's an awful funny book about a kepple. He was a classic an' hisname was Dent."
Johnson knitted his brows and thought a moment. "He was a classic, yousay, and his name was--Oh, yes, I know--Dante," he declared, withdifficulty controlling the laughter that well-nigh convulsed him. "Andyou found Dante funny, did you?"
"Funny? I roared!" acknowledged the Girl with a frankness that was sogenuine that Johnson could not help but admire her all the more. "Yousee, he loved a lady--" resumed the Girl, toying idly with her spoon.
"--Beatrice," supplemented Johnson, pronouncing the name with theItalian accent which, by the way, was not lost on the Girl.
"How?" she asked quickly, with eyes wide open.
Johnson ignored the question. Anxious to hear her interpretation of thestory, he requested her to continue.
"He loved a lady--" began the Girl, and broke off short. And going overto the book-shelf she took down a volume and began to finger the leavesabsently. Presently she came back, and fixing her eyes upon him, shewent on: "It made me think of it, what you said down to the saloonto-night about livin' so you didn't care what come after. Well, he madeup his min', this Dent--Dantes--that one hour o' happiness with her wasworth the whole da--" She checked the word on her tongue, and concluded:"outfit that come after. He was willin' to sell out his chances forsixty minutes with 'er. Well, I jest put the book down an' hollered."And once more she broke into a hearty laugh.
"Of course you did," agreed Johnson, joining in the laugh. "All thesame," he presently added, "you knew he was right."
"I didn't!" she contradicted with spirit, and slowly went back to thebook-shelf with the book.
"You did."
"Didn't!"
"You did."
"Didn't! Didn't!"
"I don't--"
"You do, you do," insisted the Girl, plumping down into the chair whichshe had vacated at the table.
"Do you mean to say--" Johnson got no further, for the Girl, with anaivete that made her positively bewitching to the man before her, wenton as if there had been no interruption:
"That a feller could so wind h'ms'lf up as to say, 'Jest give me onehour o' your sassiety; time ain't nothin', nothin' ain't nothin' only tobe a da--darn fool over you!' Ain't it funny to feel like that?" Andthen, before Johnson could frame an answer:
"Yet, I s'pose there are people that love into the grave an' into deathan' after." The Girl's voice lowered, stopped. Then, looking straightahead of her, her eyes glistening, she broke out with:
"Golly, it jest lifts you right up by your bootstraps to think of it,don't it?"
Johnson was not smiling now, but sat gazing intently at her throughhalf-veiled lids.
"It does have that effect," he answered, the wonder of it all creepinginto his voice.
"Yet, p'r'aps he was ahead o' the game. P'r'aps--" She did not finishthe sentence, but broke out with fresh enthusiasm: "Oh, say, I jest lovethis conversation with you! I love to hear you talk! You give me idees!"
Johnson's heart was too full for utterance; he could only think of hisown happiness. The next instant the Girl called to Wowkle to bring thecandle, while she, still eager and animated, her eyes bright, her lipscurving in a smile, took up a cigar and handed it to him, saying:
"One o' your real Havanas!"
"But I"--began Johnson, protestingly.
Nevertheless the Girl lit a match for him from the candle which Wowkleheld up to her, and, while the latter returned the candle to the mantel,Johnson lighted his cigar from the burning match between her fingers.
"Oh, Girl, how I'd love to know you!" he suddenly cried with the fire oflove in his eyes.
"But you do know me," was her answer, as she watched the smoke from hiscigar curl upwards toward the ceiling.
"Not well enough," he sighed.
For a brief second only she was silent. Whether she read his thoughts itwould be difficult to say; but there came a moment soon when she couldnot mistake them.
"What's your drift, anyway?" she asked, looking him full in the face.
"To know you as Dante knew the lady--'One hour for me, one hour worththe world,'" he told her, all the while watching and loving her beauty.
At the thought she trembled a little, though she answered withcharacteristic bluntness:
"He didn't git it, Mr. Johnson."
"All the same there are women we could die for," insisted Johnson,dreamily.
The Girl was in the act of carrying her cup to her mouth but put it downon the table. Leaning forward, she inquired somewhat sneeringly:
"Mr. Johnson, how many times have you died?" Johnson did not have tothink twice before answering. With wide, truthful eyes he said:
"That day on the road to Monterey I said just that one woman for me. Iwanted to kiss you then," he added, taking her hand in his. And, strangeto say, she was not angry, not unwilling, but sweetly tender and modestas she let it lay ther
e.
"But, Mr. Johnson, some men think so much o' kisses that they don't wanta second kiss from the same girl," spoke up the Girl after a moment'sreflection.
"Doesn't that depend on whether they love her or not? Now all loves arenot alike," reasoned the man in all truthfulness.
"No, but they all have the same aim--to git 'er if they can," contendedthe Girl, gently withdrawing her hand.
Silence filled the room.
"Ah, I see you don't know what love is," at length sighed Johnson,watching the colour come and go from her face.
The Girl hesitated, then answered in a confused, uneven voice:
"Nope. Mother used to say, 'It's a tickling sensation at the heart thatyou can't scratch,' an' we'll let it go at that."
"Oh, Girl, you're bully!" laughed the man, rising, and making an attemptto embrace her. But all of a sudden he stopped and stood with abewildered look upon his face: a fierce gale was sweeping the mountain.It filtered in through the crevices of the walls and doors; the lightsflickered; the curtains swayed; and the cabin itself rocked uncertainlyuntil it seemed as if it would be uprooted. It was all over in a minute.In fact, the wind had died away almost simultaneously with the Girl'sloud cry of "Wowkle, hist the winder!"
It is not to be wondered at, however, that Johnson looked apprehensivelyabout him with every fresh impulse of the gale. The Girl's descriptionof the storms on the mountain was fresh in his mind, and there was alsogood and sufficient reason why he should not be caught in a blizzard onthe top of Cloudy Mountain! Nevertheless, as before, the calm look whichhe saw on the Girl's face reassured him. Advancing once more towardsher, he stretched out his arms as if to gather her in them.
"Look out, you'll muss my roses!" she cried, waving him back and dodgingWowkle who, having cleared the table, was now making her last trip tothe cupboard.
"Well, hadn't you better take them off then?" suggested Johnson, stillfollowing her up.
"Give a man an inch an' he'll be at Sank Hosey before you know it!" sheflung at him over her shoulder, and made straightway for the bureau.
But although Johnson desisted, he kept his eyes upon her as she took theroses from her hair, losing none of the picture that she made with thelight beating and playing upon her glimmering eyes, her rosy cheeks andher parted lips.
"Is there--is there anyone else?" he inquired falteringly, half-fearfullest there was.
"A man always says, 'who was the first one?' but the girl says, 'who'llbe the next one?'" she returned, as she carefully laid the roses in herbureau drawer.
"But the time comes when there never will be a next one."
"No?"
"No."
"I'd hate to stake my pile on that," observed the Girl, drily. She blewup each glove as it came off and likewise carefully laid them away inthe bureau drawer.
By this time Wowkle's soft tread had ceased, her duties for the nightwere over, and she stood at the table waiting to be dismissed.
"Wowkle, git to your wigwam!" suddenly ordered her mistress, watchingher until she disappeared into the cupboard; but she did not see theIndian woman's lips draw back in a half-grin as she closed the doorbehind her.
"Oh, you're sending her away! Must I go, too?" asked Johnson, dismally.
"No--not jest yet; you can stay a--a hour or two longer," the Girlinformed him with a smile; and turning once more to the bureau shebusied herself there for a few minutes longer.
Johnson's joy knew no bounds; he burst out delightedly:
"Why, I'm like Dante! I want the world in that hour, because, you see,I'm afraid the door of this little paradise might be shut to me after--Let's say this is my one hour--the hour that gave me--that kiss I want."
"Go long! You go to grass!" returned the Girl with a nervous littlelaugh.
Johnson made one more effort and won out; that is, he succeeded, atlast, in getting her in his grasp.
"Listen," said the determined lover, pleading for a kiss as he wouldhave pleaded for his very life.
It was at this juncture that Wowkle, silently, stealthily, emerged fromthe cupboard and made her way over to the door. Her feet were heavilymoccasined and she was blanketed in a stout blanket of gay colouring.
"Ugh--some snow!" she muttered, as a gust of wind beat against her faceand drove great snow-flakes into the room, fairly taking her breathaway. But her words fell on deaf ears. For, oblivious to the storm thatwas now raging outside, the youthful pair of lovers continued toconcentrate their thoughts upon the storm that was raging within theirown breasts, the Girl keeping up the struggle with herself, while theman urged her on as only he knew how.
"Why, if I let you take one you'd take two," denied the Girl,half-yielding by her very words, if she but knew it.
"No, I wouldn't--I swear I wouldn't," promised the man with greatearnestness.
"Ugh--very bad!" was the Indian woman's muffled ejaculation as shepeered out into the night. But she had promised her lover to come to himwhen supper was over, and she would not break faith with him even if itwere at the peril of her life. The next moment she went out, as did thered light in the Girl's lantern hanging on a peg of the outer door.
"Oh, please, please," said the Girl, half-protestingly, half-willingly.
But the man was no longer to be denied; he kept on urging:
"One kiss, only one."
Here was an appeal which could no longer be resisted, and thoughhalf-frightened by the tone of his voice and the look in his eye, theGirl let herself be taken into his arms as she murmured:
"'Tain't no use, I lay down my hands to you."
And so it was that, unconscious of the great havoc that was beingwrought by the storm, unconscious of the danger that momentarilythreatened their lives, they remained locked in each other's arms. TheGirl made no attempt to silence him now or withdraw her hands from his.Why should she? Had he not come to Cloudy Mountain to woo her? Was shenot awaiting his coming? To her it seemed but natural that theconventions should be as nothing in the face of love. His voice, low andmusical, charged with passion, thrilled through her.
"I love you," said the man, with a note of possession that frightenedher while it filled her with strange, sweet joy. For months she haddreamed of him and loved him; no wonder that she looked upon him as herhero and yielded herself entirely to her fate.
She lifted her eyes and he saw the love in them. She freed her handsfrom his grasp, and then gave them back to him in a little gesture ofsurrender.
"Yes, you're mine, an' I'm yours," she said with trembling lips.
"I have lived but for this from the moment that I first saw you," hetold her, softly.
"Me, too--seein' that I've prayed for it day an' night," sheacknowledged, her eyes seeking his.
"Our destinies have brought us together; whatever happens now I amcontent," he said, pressing his lips once more to hers. A little whilelater he added: "My darkest hour will be lightened by the memory of you,to-night."
The Girl of the Golden West Page 11