Zane Grey (10 page)

"An' the lass Helen is goin' to help us," said Wetzel, much
interested. "It's a good move. Women are keen. Betty put Miller's
schemin' in my eye long 'afore I noticed it. But girls have chances we
men'd never get."

"Yes, an' she's like Betts, quicker'n lightnin'. She'll find out this
hoss-thief in Fort Henry; but Lew, when we do get him we won't be much
better off. Where do them hosses go? Who's disposin' of 'em for
this fellar?"

"Where's Brandt from?" asked Wetzel.

"Detroit; he's a French-Canadian."

Wetzel swung sharply around, his eyes glowing like wakening furnaces.

"Bing Legget's a French-Canadian, an' from Detroit. Metzar was once
thick with him down Fort Pitt way 'afore he murdered a man an' became
an outlaw. We're on the trail, Jack."

"Brandt an' Metzar, with Legget backin' them, an' the horses go
overland to Detroit?"

"I calkilate you've hit the mark."

"What'll we do?" asked Jonathan.

"Wait; that's best. We've no call to hurry. We must know the truth
before makin' a move, an' as yet we're only suspicious. This lass'll
find out more in a week than we could in a year. But Jack, have a care
she don't fall into any snare. Brandt ain't any too honest a lookin'
chap, an' them renegades is hell for women. The scars you wear prove
that well enough. She's a rare, sweet, bloomin' lass, too. I never
seen her equal. I remember how her eyes flashed when she said she knew
I'd avenged Mabel. Jack, they're wonderful eyes; an' that girl,
however sweet an' good as she must be, is chain-lightnin' wrapped up
in a beautiful form. Aren't the boys at the fort runnin' arter her?"

"Like mad; it'd make you laugh to see 'em," replied Jonathan calmly.

"There'll be some fights before she's settled for, an' mebbe arter
thet. Have a care for her, Jack, an' see that she don't ketch you."

"No more danger than for you."

"I was ketched onct," replied Wetzel.

Jonathan Zane looked up at his companion. Wetzel's head was bowed; but
there was no merriment in the serious face exposed to the
borderman's scrutiny.

"Lew, you're jokin'."

"Not me. Some day, when you're ketched good, an' I have to go back to
the lonely trail, as I did afore you an' me become friends, mebbe
then, when I'm the last borderman, I'll tell you."

"Lew, 'cordin' to the way settlers are comin', in a few more years
there won't be any need for a borderman. When the Injuns are all gone
where'll be our work?"

"'Tain't likely either of us'll ever see them times," said Wetzel,
"an' I don't want to. Wal, Jack, I'm off now, an' I'll meet you here
every other day."

Wetzel shouldered his long rifle, and soon passed out of sight down
the mountain-side.

Jonathan arose, shook himself as a big dog might have done, and went
down into the valley. Only once did he pause in his descent, and that
was when a crackling twig warned him some heavy body was moving near.
Silently he sank into the bushes bordering the trail. He listened with
his ear close to the ground. Presently he heard a noise as of two hard
substances striking together. He resumed his walk, having recognized
the grating noise of a deer-hoof striking a rock. Farther down he
espied a pair grazing. The buck ran into the thicket; but the doe eyed
him curiously.

Less than an hour's rapid walking brought him to the river. Here he
plunged into a thicket of willows, and emerged on a sandy strip of
shore. He carefully surveyed the river bank, and then pulled a small
birch-bark canoe from among the foliage. He launched the frail craft,
paddled across the river and beached it under a reedy, over-hanging bank.

The distance from this point in a straight line to his destination was
only a mile; but a rocky bluff and a ravine necessitated his making a
wide detour. While lightly leaping over a brook his keen eye fell on
an imprint in the sandy loam. Instantly he was on his knees. The
footprint was small, evidently a woman's, and, what was more unusual,
instead of the flat, round moccasin-track, it was pointed, with a
sharp, square heel. Such shoes were not worn by border girls. True
Betty and Nell had them; but they never went into the woods without
moccasins.

Jonathan's experienced eye saw that this imprint was not an hour old.
He gazed up at the light. The day was growing short. Already shadows
lay in the glens. He would not long have light enough to follow the
trail; but he hurried on hoping to find the person who made it before
darkness came. He had not traveled many paces before learning that the
one who made it was lost. The uncertainty in those hasty steps was as
plain to the borderman's eyes, as if it had been written in words on
the sand. The course led along the brook, avoiding the rough places;
and leading into the open glades and glens; but it drew no nearer to
the settlement. A quarter of an hour of rapid trailing enabled
Jonathan to discern a dark figure moving among the trees. Abandoning
the trail, he cut across a ridge to head off the lost woman. Stepping
out of a sassafras thicket, he came face to face with Helen Sheppard.

"Oh!" she cried in alarm, and then the expression of terror gave place
to one of extreme relief and gladness. "Oh! Thank goodness! You've
found me. I'm lost!"

"I reckon," answered Jonathan grimly. "The settlement's only five
hundred yards over that hill."

"I was going the wrong way. Oh! suppose you hadn't come!" exclaimed
Helen, sinking on a log and looking up at him with warm, glad eyes.

"How did you lose your way?" Jonathan asked. He saw neither the warmth
in her eyes nor the gladness.

"I went up the hillside, only a little way, after flowers, keeping the
fort in sight all the time. Then I saw some lovely violets down a
little hill, and thought I might venture. I found such loads of them I
forgot everything else, and I must have walked on a little way. On
turning to go back I couldn't find the little hill. I have hunted in
vain for the clearing. It seems as if I have been wandering about for
hours. I'm so glad you've found me!"

"Weren't you told to stay in the settlement, inside the clearing?"
demanded Jonathan.

"Yes," replied Helen, with her head up.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't choose."

"You ought to have better sense."

"It seems I hadn't," Helen said quietly, but her eyes belied that calm
voice.

"You're a headstrong child," Jonathan added curtly.

"Mr. Zane!" cried Helen with pale face.

"I suppose you've always had your own sweet will; but out here on the
border you ought to think a little of others, if not of yourself."

Helen maintained a proud silence.

"You might have run right into prowlin' Shawnees."

"That dreadful disaster would not have caused you any sorrow," she
flashed out.

"Of course it would. I might have lost my scalp tryin' to get you back
home," said Jonathan, beginning to hesitate. Plainly he did not know
what to make of this remarkable young woman.

"Such a pity to have lost all your fine hair," she answered with a
touch of scorn.

Jonathan flushed, perhaps for the first time in his life. If there was
anything he was proud of, it was his long, glossy hair.

"Miss Helen, I'm a poor hand at words," he said, with a pale, grave
face. "I was only speakin' for your own good."

"You are exceedingly kind; but need not trouble yourself."

"Say," Jonathan hesitated, looking half-vexed at the lovely, angry
face. Then an idea occurred to him. "Well, I won't trouble. Find your
way home yourself."

Abruptly he turned and walked slowly away. He had no idea of allowing
her to go home alone; but believed it might be well for her to think
so. If she did not call him back he would remain near at hand, and
when she showed signs of anxiety or fear he could go to her.

Helen determined she would die in the woods, or be captured by
Shawnees, before calling him back. But she watched him. Slowly the
tall, strong figure, with its graceful, springy stride, went down the
glade. He would be lost to view in a moment, and then she would be
alone. How dark it had suddenly become! The gray cloak of twilight was
spread over the forest, and in the hollows night already had settled
down. A breathless silence pervaded the woods. How lonely! thought
Helen, with a shiver. Surely it would be dark before she could find
the settlement. What hill hid the settlement from view? She did not
know, could not remember which he had pointed out. Suddenly she began
to tremble. She had been so frightened before he had found her, and so
relieved afterward; and now he was going away.

"Mr. Zane," she cried with a great effort. "Come back."

Jonathan kept slowly on.

"Come back, Jonathan, please."

The borderman retraced his steps.

"Please take me home," she said, lifting a fair face all flushed,
tear-stained, and marked with traces of storm. "I was foolish, and
silly to come into the woods, and so glad to see you! But you spoke to
me—in—in a way no one ever used before. I'm sure I deserved it.
Please take me home. Papa will be worried."

Softer eyes and voice than hers never entreated man.

"Come," he said gently, and, taking her by the hand, he led her up the
ridge.

Thus they passed through the darkening forest, hand in hand, like a
dusky redman and his bride. He helped her over stones and logs, but
still held her hand when there was no need of it. She looked up to see
him walking, so dark and calm beside her, his eyes ever roving among
the trees. Deepest remorse came upon her because of what she had said.
There was no sentiment for him in this walk under the dark canopy of
the leaves. He realized the responsibility. Any tree might hide a
treacherous foe. She would atone for her sarcasm, she promised
herself, while walking, ever conscious of her hand in his, her bosom
heaving with the sweet, undeniable emotion which came knocking at
her heart.

Soon they were out of the thicket, and on the dusty lane. A few
moments of rapid walking brought them within sight of the twinkling
lights of the village, and a moment later they were at the lane
leading to Helen's home. Releasing her hand, she stopped him with a
light touch and said:

"Please don't tell papa or Colonel Zane."

"Child, I ought. Some one should make you stay at home."

"I'll stay. Please don't tell. It will worry papa."

Jonathan Zane looked down into her great, dark, wonderful eyes with an
unaccountable feeling. He really did not hear what she asked.
Something about that upturned face brought to his mind a rare and
perfect flower which grew in far-off rocky fastnesses. The feeling he
had was intangible, like no more than a breath of fragrant western
wind, faint with tidings of some beautiful field.

"Promise me you won't tell."

"Well, lass, have it your own way," replied Jonathan, wonderingly
conscious that it was the first pledge ever asked of him by a woman.

"Thank you. Now we have two secrets, haven't we?" she laughed, with
eyes like stars.

"Run home now, lass. Be careful hereafter. I do fear for you with such
spirit an' temper. I'd rather be scalped by Shawnees than have Bing
Legget so much as set eyes on you."

"You would? Why?" Her voice was like low, soft music.

"Why?" he mused. "It'd seem like a buzzard about to light on a doe."

"Good-night," said Helen abruptly, and, wheeling, she hurried down the
lane.

"Jack," said Colonel Zane to his brother next morning, "to-day is
Saturday and all the men will be in. There was high jinks over at
Metzar's place yesterday, and I'm looking for more to-day. The two
fellows Alex Bennet told me about, came on day-before-yesterday's
boat. Sure enough, one's a lordly Englishman, and the other, the
cussedest-looking little chap I ever saw. They started trouble
immediately. The Englishman, his name is Mordaunt, hunted up the
Sheppards and as near as I can make out from George's story, Helen
spoke her mind very plainly. Mordaunt and Case, that's his servant,
the little cuss, got drunk and raised hell down at Metzar's where
they're staying. Brandt and Williams are drinking hard, too, which is
something unusual for Brandt. They got chummy at once with the
Englishman, who seems to have plenty of gold and is fond of gambling.
This Mordaunt is a gentleman, or I never saw one. I feel sorry for
him. He appears to be a ruined man. If he lasts a week out here I'll
be surprised. Case looks ugly, as if he were spoiling to cut somebody.
I want you to keep your eye peeled. The day may pass off as many other
days of drinking bouts have, without anything serious, and on the
other hand there's liable to be trouble."

Jonathan's preparations were characteristic of the borderman. He laid
aside his rifle, and, removing his short coat, buckled on a second
belt containing a heavier tomahawk and knife than those he had been
wearing. Then he put on his hunting frock, or shirt, and wore it loose
with the belts underneath, instead of on the outside. Unfastened, the
frock was rather full, and gave him the appearance of a man unarmed
and careless.

Jonathan Zane was not so reckless as to court danger, nor, like many
frontiersmen, fond of fighting for its own sake. Colonel Zane was
commandant of the fort, and, in a land where there was no law, tried
to maintain a semblance of it. For years he had kept thieves,
renegades and outlaws away from his little settlement by dealing out
stern justice. His word was law, and his bordermen executed it as
such. Therefore Jonathan and Wetzel made it their duty to have a keen
eye on all that was happening. They kept the colonel posted, and never
interfered in any case without orders.

The morning passed quietly. Jonathan strolled here or loitered there;
but saw none of the roisterers. He believed they were sleeping off the
effects of their orgy on the previous evening. After dinner he smoked
his pipe. Betty and Helen passed, and Helen smiled. It struck him
suddenly that she had never looked at him in such a way before. There
was meaning in that warm, radiant flash. A little sense of vexation,
the source of which he did not understand, stirred in him against this
girl; but with it came the realization that her white face and big,
dark eyes had risen before him often since the night before. He
wished, for the first time, that he could understand women better.