The Plow-Woman Part 24

But Lancaster only groaned ungratefully and continued to ply the crutch.

On they went. As the short day ended and darkness came, they steered farther to the left, for there was a possible danger of pitching over the river-bank. When they approached the coulee, the same peril again met them. Shadrach, however, insured them against accident. He struck his own trail, and knew it. At once, he quickened his speed, pulling the reins taut. Behind him, his master, though utterly wearied, kept awake to watch their course and commend him kindly. Not so the section-boss.

His anger finally spent, he put up his crutch and made himself comfortable. Then, swaying as the pung swayed, he slept.

Far away at Fort Brannon the council was at an end. Lanterns were whisking to and fro like giant lightning-bugs about the long garrison granary and the quartermaster and commissary storehouse, where wagons were being loaded with tents, ammunition, rations, and forage--enough for sixty days. The library window at headquarters was bright: Colonel c.u.mmings and a surgeon were respectively commanding and persuading young Jamieson to await his mother and sister at the post. Nick Matthews, attended by a watchful sergeant, was having his hair cut by the citizen barber. While Lounsbury, too joyfully excited to sleep, was in the sutler's billiard-room, giving Fraser, who was about to depart with the expedition, a sympathetic history of the Lancasters--a history in which Marylyn was shrewdly made the dainty central figure.

At five o'clock, everything being in readiness, a livelier activity prevailed. The out-going troop was routed from bed and fortified with a hot breakfast. By six, "boots and saddles" had sounded. And, soon, the detachment--protected from the cold by blanket-coats, and with black cutties burning down the whole length of its double line--was leading the wagon-train at a good jog toward the west.

The men went gladly, accepting the long ride as a welcome relief to the stagnation of a garrison winter. To them, the possible dangers of the trip were a mere matter of course, though Guy V. Henry's march of a twelvemonth before--a terrible march from Fort Robinson into the Black Hills--was fresh in their memory. Captain Oliver commanded, B Troop being his own. He was a brave man, but one who let his heart influence his better judgment, who was neither as acute as a soldier should be nor as cautious. Yet his commanding officer selected him for the duty--the choice insured his remaining behind when the campaign of the coming summer opened; when there would arrive from the "States" a certain loyal little wife and her seven babies.

An hour after the cavalry clattered out of Brannon, faithful Shadrach limped home. The approach of the pung did not frighten Dallas. For, long before it crossed the coulee, as she walked noiselessly to and fro across the dirt floor, she heard her father's voice urging the white horse on. She did not understand the quick return, but prepared for it by building up the fire and swinging the coffee-pail into place.

The old men heard her story before they stepped from the sleigh. The evangelist, as he listened, thanked his G.o.d for Lounsbury. The section-boss, on the contrary, was made so angry by the recital of Matthews' attack that he called down every manner of punishment upon the latter, and revelled in multiple plans for a sweet revenge.

"Jes' let thet scalawag call again," he cried, shaking a crutch toward Shanty Town. "Ah ain't much on my laigs these days, but Ah'm right good yet with my pistol arm!"

"Without _His_ arm----" began David Bond.

A wondering cry from Dallas stopped him. He turned to see her pointing at the northern sky.

A strange, wild light was creeping up from the horizon and tinting the heavens. A filmy veil was mounting the zenith, and swinging gently.

Swiftly the glory grew. The veil became a curtain of rainbow colouring, edged with royal purple and faint red, and lined, here with orange, there with green, again with delicate pink.

Changes followed. Green, gold, and blue lightning darted from plain to sky, trailing fainter colours that danced elfishly; and the sheet of living flame took form. It became a huge clenched fist, resting upright upon the lighted prairie. About it, in a sky made darker by contrast, gleamed the scattered stars. Then, one by one, quivering fingers of light shot forth from the fist. Until, at length, over the little shack was outspread, palm downward, a shimmering giant hand.

To the evangelist, watching the aurora with upturned face, the hand was deified. "It is a divine manifestation!" he whispered reverently. "It brings a message: '_Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day._'"

CHAPTER XV

NECESSITY

While David Bond and Dallas were taking Shadrach from the pung, a boot crunched the snow behind them. They turned. And there was Lounsbury, fairly bursting to tell his good news.

When he had told it, he was anxious to get away again, for by a quick retreat the two girls might be saved the knowledge of the Clark episode, and he, a very probable second insult. But the evangelist, having no wish to tattle about Lancaster, yet hoping that the elder girl would learn what her father had done and administer a deserved rebuke, urged him in.

The storekeeper did not consent to enter the shack, however, until Dallas added her invitation; and then he went reluctantly. He was accustomed to courtesy there on the frontier. The plains-bred men that he knew instinctively took him at his real valuation, and treated him accordingly; the men of a more conventional strata (the professional men of Bismarck, and those who officered at the posts up and down the river) freely bestowed their friendship upon him; the lawless element respected him, too, and showed that respect by letting him severely alone. He shrank from placing himself where a man like Lancaster--crippled, old, and therefore beyond disciplining--could have the chance to repeat an affront. And he shrank at the thought of a clash--it meant pain for two helpless women. Nevertheless, he yielded.

The streamers were gone from the sky by then. They had faded as quickly as they had come. Once more, under a dome of cobalt, the river flowed black between its fringe of trees, and the prairie stretched white and still.

A bright fire and a singing coffee-pail welcomed the three as the door swung wide, and the section-boss, who was urging Marylyn to "rustle some grub," turned with a testy word. But he fell silent when he saw Lounsbury, and edged into the dusky shelter of the hearth-side.

The storekeeper nodded to him, shook hands absently with the younger girl, and took a bench. His face looked less full than usual, and was lighted by no hearty smiles.

Little was said until breakfast was ready--a quick breakfast of bacon, pone, and coffee. The three men warmed themselves. The girls moved between fireplace and table. But when the plates were set and the coffee poured, David Bond asked for the story of Matthews' doings, of the affair at the saloon, the meeting with Colonel c.u.mmings, and the council. Dallas and Marylyn heard it from where they stood together before the blaze. Lancaster heard it,--though he pretended not to,--eating and drinking the while with angry smacks.

Lounsbury paid no attention to the section-boss. In fact, before his recital was done, he had forgotten him. He talked quietly and without boasting, his face now turned to David Bond, now to the girls.

"And you think," said the evangelist, when the story was finished, "you think that Matthews will drop his claim to the Bend?"

Lounsbury arose, as if to go, and for the first time since his entrance looked squarely at Lancaster. "This is what I think:" he answered, "in Dakota, if a man jumps land that hasn't been improved, all he's got to do is to hang on to it; don't have to ra.s.sle with any fine points of law. This far west of stuffed chairs, there's a whole lot in public sentiment." He crossed the room and picked up coat and cap.

"Of course," added David Bond, "following the law would strengthen the case."

"Of course."

The section-boss adjusted his crutches and stood up. "You-all seem t' be settlin' it 'thout any o' my lip," he said, and laughed mockingly.

"We have your interests at heart," replied the storekeeper.

Lancaster ground his teeth. Now that all danger was past, he felt no grat.i.tude for the routing of Matthews and the strategy at The Trooper's Delight. He could only feel that his authority in his own home was threatened. He turned his back.

Lounsbury glanced at the girls. They were watching their father appealingly.

"I _should_ say," went on Lounsbury, "that we have the interests of your daughters at heart." His hand reached for the latch.

"Mr. Lounsbury!" Dallas made a swift step toward him.

Now, the section-boss came about. Lounsbury was reminded of the day on the plowed strip. For he saw that Lancaster was all a-tremble, and panting as if spent with a hard run. "M' gal!" he cried sternly.

Dallas stepped back and touched her father's arm. And her remonstrance was the remonstrance of that other day. "No, no, dad," she cautioned in a low voice; "no, no."

Lancaster's breast heaved. He swallowed with an effort, and scowled from one to another of the four.

David Bond came forward, addressing Lounsbury. "Will you tell me your name?" he asked. "I want to remember you. You are not a soldier. Do you belong at Clark's----"

"Did y' size him up fer a cow-punch?" broke in Lancaster. "Huh! Wal, _Ah_ never did."

Lounsbury's face dyed to a deep scarlet. "No?" he said. "And why?"

Again the section-boss gave a shrill, mocking laugh. "Too fat an' too mouthy," he answered.

For an instant Lounsbury wavered. In that instant the deep scarlet faded, his eyes opened, his nostrils spread.

"Pa! pa!" It was Marylyn, half-weeping.

Lounsbury's cool voice cleared the air. "I'm a Bismarck man," he said to the evangelist. "I've got a store there. My name is John Lounsbury." He held out his hand to Dallas.

She advanced again and took it. "Oh, thank you! thank you!" she breathed.

"'Bismarck man.'" It was Lancaster once more. "Wal, w'y the devil don'

y' stay thar?"

Lounsbury took no notice of him. "I'll be hoofing it," he said to Dallas. "But if I can do anything--you understand." And went out.

David Bond's keen eyes studied the elder girl. He expected an outburst of anger and blame. He was surprised when, without speaking, she brought the benches to the fire and set about clearing the table. Lancaster seated himself and sucked moodily at his pipe. Marylyn flitted behind him, to disappear through the swinging blankets. The evangelist walked up and down.