The Watchers of the Plains Part 36

"But--but your--property?"

"I arranged that with Mr. Irvine before I came out. It's no use, auntie, I am quite determined. That is--you won't--you won't turn me out, Pa, will you? I'll be so good. I'll never do anything wrong, and I'll--I'll even hoe potatoes if any one wants me to."

The girl's laughing eyes shot a mischievous glance in Seth's direction.

Rube raised one great hand and drew her face to his and kissed her.

"Guess this is your home if you've a notion to it, Rosie, gal. Guess Ma wants you, jest as we all do."

Ma nodded and beamed through her gla.s.ses. Seth smiled in his slow fashion.

"An' I guess I ain't bustin' fer you to hoe p'taters neither," he said.

For a moment Mrs. Rickards looked about her helplessly; she hardly knew what to say. Then, at last, she, too, joined in the spirit which pervaded the party.

"Well, you are the strangest creature--but there, I said you were a little savage, and so did Mr. Seth."

CHAPTER XXV

IN WHICH THE UNDERCURRENT BELIES THE SUPERFICIAL CALM

THE snow is gone, and the earth is pa.s.sing through a process of airing.

The sun licks up the moisture like some creature possessed of an unquenchable thirst. Wherever it is sufficiently dry the settlers are already at work seeding. Some are even breaking virgin soil, or turning over old ploughing. There is an atmosphere of leisurely industry about the plains. Even in these unsettled regions work goes forward with precision.

The farmer's life is one of routine with which he permits nothing to interfere. He lives by the fruits of the earth which ripen in due season.

If fortune favors him he reaps the harvest. Whatever his lot he must accept it. The elements rule his life. The Indians may or may not disorganize the process.

The folk on White River Farm are in no way behind their neighbors. Seth's returning strength permits him to take his share in the work, and thus Rube finds his burden lightened. But only partially, for Seth has much else to do, or seems to have, for he has many comings and goings which take up time.

Mrs. Rickards is still staying on at the farm. She thoroughly enjoys this new, simple life. Besides, in the brief fortnight which has elapsed since her coming, she has learnt something of the true worth, the wonderful kindliness and honesty of these frontier-folk.

Even Seth, whom at first she was less certain about, she has learned to look upon with favor. His silent, direct fashion of going through his daily life has given her an inkling of qualities, which, if not altogether companionable, show a manliness she has not always been accustomed to.

Her change of opinion found vent one night at bedtime. Rosebud listened to the worldly-wise woman's remarks with a glow of pleasure and pride.

"Seth is a queer fellow, Rosie, so darkly reticent and all that," she said, with a thoughtful smile. "Do you know I sometimes think if I were in great danger--personal danger, you know--he's the sort of man I'd like to have about. He gives me the impression of a great reserve of strength. He is what one might--well, what you would call a 'man.'"

Rosebud added her word without the least hesitation.

"He's more than that, auntie; he's the bravest and best man in the world."

"Just so, my dear; and in consequence you don't want to return to England," Mrs. Rickards said slyly.

Rosebud encountered the glance which accompanied the words. She shook her head with a little despairing gesture.

"But he loves me only as a sort of daughter."

"Does he, my dear?"

Mrs. Rickards' tone was quite incredulous; she was at home in matters of love and marriage.

The object of all this thought went about blissfully unconscious of the heart stirrings he was causing. Every moment of his life was full--full to the brim and even overflowing. There was not a settler in the district whom he had not visited during the fortnight. And his business was with the men alone.

The result of his visits would have been visible to the eye of only the most experienced. Work went on the same as before, but there were many half hours which might have been spent in well-earned idleness now devoted by the men to a quiet, undemonstrative overhauling of their armory.

As it was at these outlying farms so it was at White River. In the short twilight of evening Rube and Seth would wander round their buildings and the stockade, noting this defect, suggesting this alteration, or that repair. All their ideas were based on the single thought of emergency.

Large supplies of cord-wood were brought in and stacked on the inner side of the stockade, thus adding to its powers of resistance. Every now and then Ma would receive casually dropped hints on the subject of her storeroom. A large supply of ammunition arrived from Beacon Crossing. Many cases of tinned provisions came along, and Ma, wondering, took them in without question or comment at the time. Later in the day when she happened to find Seth alone she told him of them, adopting a casual tone, the tone which these people invariably a.s.sumed when the signs of the times wore their most significant aspect.

"There was a heap of canned truck come from the Crossing, Seth," she said.

"I laid it down in the cellars. Maybe you sent it along?"

And Seth replied--

"Why, yes, Ma. I figgered we'd like a change from fresh meat. You see I happened along to Beacon Crossing, an' I guessed I'd save a journey later."

"I see."

Ma's bright old eyes read all there was underlying her boy's words, and she, like the rest, continued steadily on with her work.

So the days crept slowly by. Now the snow and ice were gone, and the tawny hue of the prairie was tinged with that perfect emerald of budding spring.

The woodlands of the river and the Reservation had lost their barren blackness. The earth was opening its eyes and stretching itself after its months of heavy slumber. Life was in the very air of the plains. The whole world seemed to be bursting with renewed life.

Seth was now restored to something like his old self. His vigor was a thing to marvel at. His regular day's work was only a t.i.the of what he did. That which went on after the rest of the household had retired to rest was known to only two others. Rube possessed the younger man's confidence, and Jimmy Parker was in constant communication with him. Seth and the latter worked hand in hand for the common welfare, but they were silent. Each knew the character of the dangers which ever surrounded them.

Each knew that an absolute silence and apparent indifference were the only means of learning the plans, the meaning of the furtive unrest of the warlike Sioux. All that they learned was carefully stored and docketed for future reference.

Parker's responsibility was official. Seth's was voluntary and humanitarian. Now he had a double incentive. Rosebud was in danger. He knew that he alone stood between her and the treacherous machinations of Nevil Steyne, and the lawless pa.s.sion of an unscrupulous savage. He dared not spare himself. He must know of every movement on the Reservation. He quite understood the men he was dealing with. He knew the motive of each.

All he hoped was that he might prove himself just a shade cleverer, a shade quicker in emergency when the time came for him to act.

It was impossible, however, that Seth should leave the house night after night and no member of the household be the wiser. Oddly enough it was Mrs. Rickards' maid who discovered his movements. She, with a discretion which a confidential servant may always be expected to possess, whispered her discovery to her mistress, and her mistress was not slow in drawing Rosebud's attention. As they were retiring one night she told the girl of her maid's discovery.

"Janet tells me that Mr. Seth goes out every night and doesn't return till two or three in the morning, Rosie," she said abruptly, as she was preparing for bed. "You know the girl sleeps over the kitchen, and some nights ago she saw him ride off from the barn in the moonlight. Last night she was awake when he got back. It was daylight. I wonder where he goes?"

Rosebud responded in a matter-of-fact tone, but with a quick look at her friend.

"I wonder."

Mrs. Rickards wondered and speculated on, but Rosebud's manner gave her no encouragement, and she was fain to let the matter drop. There was no malice in her remarks, but a very profound curiosity.

Her announcement had its effect.

The next night Rosebud did not go to bed after retiring to their room. She made no explanation, merely telling her aunt that she was not going to bed yet. And Mrs. Rickards nodded a comprehensive smile at her.

The girl waited a reasonable time till she thought the others were asleep, then she crept softly down-stairs. She went into the kitchen, but it was dark and empty. The parlor was also in darkness, except for the moonlight pouring in through the window. But as she stood in the doorway, peering closely into the remoter corners, she felt a cool draught playing upon her face. Then she saw that the door opening on the verandah was open.

She walked across the room, and, looking out on the moonlit scene, was promptly greeted by a low growl from General. The next moment she stepped out, and beheld Seth's tall figure leaning against one of the great gate-posts of the stockade, while General came over to her and rubbed his keen nose against her skirts.