Told in the Hills: A Novel

While Major Dreyer fretted and fumed over the absentee, there was more than one of the men in camp to remember that their chief scout was said to be a squaw man; and as most of them shared his own expressed idea of that class, conjectures were set afloat as to the probability of his not coming back at all, or if it came to a question of fighting with the northern Indians, whether he might not be found on the other side.

"You can't bet any money on a squaw man," was the decision of one of the scouts from over in Idaho – one who did not happen to be a squaw man himself, because the wife of his nearest neighbor at home objected. "No, gentlemen, they're a risky lot. This one is a good man; I allow that – a damned good man, I may say, and a fighter from away back; but the thing we have to consider is that up this way he's with his own people, as you may say, having taken a squaw wife and been adopted into the tribe; an' I tell you, sirs, it's jest as reasonable that he will go with them as against them – I'm a tellin' you!"

Few of these rumors were heard at the ranch. It was an understood thing among the men that the young ladies at Hardy's were to hear nothing of camp affairs that was likely to beget alarm; but Stuart heard them, as did the rest of the men; and like them, he tried to question the only one in camp who shared suspicion – Kalitan. But Kalitan was unapproachable in English, and even in Chinook would condescend no information. He doubtless had none to give, but the impression of suppressed knowledge that he managed to convey made him an object of close attention, and any attempt to leave camp would have been hailed as proof positive of many intangible suspicions. He made no such attempt. On the contrary, after his arrival there from the Gros Ventres, he seemed blissfully content to live all winter on Government rations and do nothing. But he was not blind by any means and understanding English, though he would not speak it, the chances were that he knew more of the thought of the camp than it guessed of his; and his stubborn resentment showed itself when three Kootenai braves slouched into camp one day, and Kalitan was not allowed to speak to them save in the presence of an interpreter, and when one offered in the person of a white scout, Kalitan looked at him with unutterable disdain, and turning his back, said not a word.

The Major was not at camp. He had just left to pay his daily visit to Hardy's; for, despite all persuasions, he refused to live anywhere but with his men, and if Fred did not come to see him in the morning, he was in duty bound to ride over to her quarters in the afternoon.

The officer in command during his absence was a Captain Holt, a man who had no use for an Indian in any capacity, and whose only idea of settling the vexed question of their rights was by total extermination and grave-room – an opinion that is expressed by many a white man who has had to deal with them. But he was divided between his impulse to send the trio on a double-quick about their business and the doubt as to what effect it would have on the tribe if they were sent back to it in the sulks. Ordinarily he would not have given their state of mind a moment's consideration; but the situation was not exactly ordinary, and he hesitated.

After stowing away enough provender in their stomachs to last an ordinary individual two days, and stowing the remainder in convenient receptacles about their draperies, intercourse was resumed with their white hosts by the suggestive Kalitan.

Just then Stuart and Rachel rode into camp. They had taken to riding together into camp, and out of camp, and in a good many directions of late; and in the coffee-colored trio she at once recognized the brave of the bear-claws whom she had spoken with during that "olallie" season in the western hills, and who she had learned since was a great friend of Genesee's. She spoke to him at once – a great deal more intelligibly than her first attempt – and upon questioning, learned that she was well remembered. She heard herself called "the squaw who rides" by him, probably from the fact that she was the only white woman met by their hunters in the hills, though she had not imagined herself so well known by them as his words implied.

He of the bear-claws – their spokesman – mentioned Kalitan, giving her for the first time an idea of what had occurred. She turned at once to Captain Holt – not protesting, but interested – and learned all she wanted to.

"Kalitan does not like your southern scouts, for some reason," she said, "and I rather think it was his dignity rather than his loyalty that would suffer from having one of them a listener. Let them speak in my presence; I can understand them, and not arouse Kalitan's pride, either."

The Captain, nothing loath, accepted her guidance out of the dilemma, though it was only by a good deal of flattery on her part that Kalitan could at all forget his anger enough to speak to anyone.

The conversation was, after all, commonplace enough, as it was mostly a recital of his – Kalitan's – glories; for in the eyes of these provincials he posed as a warrior of travel and accumulated knowledge. The impassive faces of his listeners gave no sign as to whether they took him at his own valuation or not. Rachel now and then added a word, to keep from having too entirely the appearance of a listener, and she asked about Genesee.

The answer gave her to understand that weeks ago – five weeks – Genesee had been in their village; asked for a runner to go south to the Fort with talking-paper. Had bought pack-horse and provisions, and started alone to the northeast – may be Blackfoot Agency, they could not say; had seen him no more. Kalitan made some rapid estimate of probabilities that found voice in —

"Blackfoot – one hundred and twenty miles; go slow – Mowitza tired; long wau-wau (talk); come slow – snows high; come soon now, may be."

That was really the only bit of information in the entire "wau-wau" that was of interest to the camp – information that Kalitan would have disdained to satisfy them with willingly; and even to Rachel, whom he knew was Genesee's friend, and his, he did not hint the distrust that had grown among the troops through that suspicious absence.

He would talk long and boastfully of his own affairs, but it was a habit that contrasted strangely with the stubborn silence by which he guarded the affairs of others.

"What is the matter back there?" asked Rachel, as she and Stuart started back to the ranch. "Ill-feeling?"

"Oh, I guess not much," he answered; "only they are growing careful of the Indians of late – afraid of them imposing on good nature, I suppose."

"A little good nature in Captain Holt would do him no harm with the Indians," she rejoined; "and he should know better than to treat Kalitan in that suspicious way. Major Dreyer would not do it, I feel sure, and Genesee won't like it."

"Will that matter much to the company or the command?"

He spoke thus only to arouse that combative spirit of hers; but she did not retort as usual – only said quietly:

"Yes, I think it would – they will find no man like him."

They never again referred to that conversation that had been in a way a confession on his part – the question of the woman at least was never renewed, though he told her much of vague plans that he hoped to develop, "when the time comes."

Three days after the visit of Bear-claws and his brethren, Stuart and Rachel were again at the camp; this time accompanying Miss Fred, who thought it was a good-enough day to go and see the "boys."

Surely it was a good-enough day for any use – clear and fresh overhead, white and sparkling underfoot, and just cold enough to make them think with desire of the cheery wood fires in the camp they were making for. From above, a certain exhilaration was borne to them on the air, sifted through the cedars of the guardian hills; even the horses seemed enthused with the spirit of it, and joyously entered into a sort of a go-as-you-please race that brought them all laughing and breathless down the length of "the avenue," a strip of beaten path about twenty feet wide, along which the tents were pitched in two rows facing each other – and not very imposing looking rows, either.

There were greetings and calls right and left, as they went helter-skelter down the line; but there was no check of speed until they stopped, short, at the Major's domicile, that was only a little more distinguished on the outside than the rest, by having the colors whipping themselves into shreds from the flagstaff at the door.

It was too cold for ceremony; and throwing the bridles to an orderly, they made a dash for the door – Miss Fred leading.

"Engaged, is he?" she said good-humoredly to the man who stepped in her path. "I don't care if he is married. I don't intend to freeze on the place where his door-step ought to be. You tell him so."

The man on duty touched his cap and disappeared, and from the sound of the Major's laughter within, must have repeated the message verbatim, and a moment later returned.

"Major Dreyer says you may enter;" and then, laughing and shivering, the Major's daughter seized Rachel with one hand, Stuart with the other, and making a quick charge, darted into the ruling presence.

"Oh, you bear!" she said, breaking from her comrades and into the bear's embrace; "to keep us out there – and it so cold! And I came over specially for – "

And then she stopped. The glitter of the sun on the sun had made a glimmer of everything under a roof, and on her entrance she had not noticed a figure opposite her father, until a man rose to his feet and took a step forward as if to go.

"Let me know when you want me, Major," he said; and the voice startled those two muffled figures in the background, for both, by a common impulse, started forward – Rachel throwing back the hood of her jacket and holding out her hand.

"I am glad you have come," she said heartily, and he gripped the offered member with a sort of fierceness as he replied:

"Thank you, Miss."

But his eyes were not on her. The man who had come with her – who still held her gloves in his hand – was the person who seemed to draw all his attention.

"You two are old neighbors, are you not?" remarked the Major. "Fred, my dear, you have met Mr. Genesee, our scout? No? Mr. Genesee, this is my daughter; and this, a friend of ours – Mr. Stuart."

An ugly devil seemed alive in Genesee's eyes, as the younger man came closer, and with an intense, expressive gesture, put out his hand.

Then, with a bow that might have been an acknowledgment of the introduction, and might have been only one of adieu to the rest of the group, the scout walked to the door without a word, and Stuart's hand dropped to his side.

"Come back in an hour, Genesee," said the Major; "I will think over the trip to the Fort in the meantime."

"I hear. Good-morning, ladies;" and then the door closed behind him, and the quartette could not but feel the situation awkward.

"Come closer to the fire – sit down," said the Major hospitably, intent on effacing the rudeness of his scout. "Take off your coat, Stuart; you'll appreciate it more when outside. And I'm going to tell you right now, that, pleased as I am to have you all come this morning, I intend to turn you out in twenty minutes – that's all the time I can give to pleasure this morning."

"Well, you are very uncivil, I must say," remarked Fred. "But we will find some of the other boys not so unapproachable. I guess," she added, "that we have to thank Mr. Man-with-the-voice for being sent to the right-about in such short order."

"You did not hear him use it much," rejoined her father, and then turned to the others, neither of whom had spoken. "He is quite a character, and of great value to us in the Indian troubles, but I believe is averse to meeting strangers; anyway, the men down at the Fort did not take to him much – not enough to make him a social success."

"I don't think he would care," said Fred. "He impressed me very much as Kalitan did when I first met him. Does living in the woods make people feel like monarchs of all they survey? Does your neighbor ever have any better manners, Rachel?"

"I have seen him with better – and with worse."

"Worse? What possibilities there must be in that man! What do you think, Mr. Stuart?"

"Perhaps he lacks none of the metal of a soldier because he does not happen to possess that of a courtier," hazarded Stuart, showing no sign that the scout's rudeness had aroused the slightest feeling of resentment; and Rachel scored an opinion in his favor for that generosity, for she, more than either of the others, had noted the meeting, and Genesee's entire disregard of the Stuart's feelings.

Major Dreyer quickly seconded Stuart's statement.

"You are right, sir. He may be as sulky as Satan – and I hear he is at times – but his work makes amends for it when he gets where work is needed. He got in here last night, dead-beat, from a trip that I don't believe any other man but an Indian could have made and get back alive. He has his good points – and they happen to be points that are in decided demand up here."

"I don't care about his good points, if we have to be turned out for him," said Fred. "Send him word he can sleep the rest of the day, if he is tired out; may be he would wake up more agreeable."

"And you would not be ousted from my attention," added her father, pinching her ear. "Are you jealous of Squaw-man-with-a-voice?"

"Is he that?" asked the girl, with a great deal of contempt in her tone. "Well, that is enough to hear of him. I should think he would avoid white people. The specimens we have seen of that class would make you ashamed you were human," she said, turning to Rachel and Stuart. "I know papa says there are exceptions, but papa is imaginative. This one looks rather prosperous, and several degrees cleaner than I've seen them, but – "

"Don't say anything against him until you know you have reason, Fred," suggested Rachel. "He did me a favor once, and I can't allow people to talk about him on hearsay. I think he is worse than few and better than many, and I have known him over a year."

"Mum is the word," said Fred promptly, proceeding to gag herself with two little fists; but the experiment was a failure.

"If she takes him under her wing, papa, his social success is an assured fact, even if he refuses to open his mouth. May I expect to be presented to his interesting family to-morrow, Rachel?"

Rachel only laughed, and asked the Major some questions about the reports from the northeast; the attitude of the Blackfeet, and the snow-fall in the mountains.

"The Blackfeet are all right now," he replied, "and the snows in the hills to the east are very heavy – that was what caused our scout's delay. But south of us I hear they are not nearly so bad, for a wonder, and am glad to hear it, as I myself may need to make a trip down to Fort Owens."

"Why, papa," broke in his commanding officer, "you are not going to turn scout or runner, are you, and leave me behind? I won't stay!"

"You will obey orders, as a soldier should," answered her father. "If I go instead of sending, it will be because it is necessary, and you will have to bow to necessity, and wait until I can get back."

"And we've got to thank Mr. Squaw-man for that, too!" burst out Fred wrathfully. "You never thought of going until he came; oh, I know it – I hate him!"

"He would be heart-broken if he knew it," observed her father dryly. "By the way, Miss Rachel, do you know if there is room in the ranch stables for another horse?"

"They can make room, if it is necessary. Why?"

"Genesee's mare is used up even worse than her master by the long, hard journey he has made. Our stock that is in good condition can stand our accommodations all right, but that fellow seemed miserable to think the poor beast had not quarters equal to his own. He is such a queer fellow about asking a favor that I thought – "

"And the thought does you credit," said the girl with a suspicious moisture in her eyes. "Poor, brave Mowitza! I could not sleep very soundly myself if I knew she was not cared for, and I know just how he feels. Don't say anything about it to him, but I will have my cousin come over and get her, before evening."

"You are a trump, Miss Rachel!" said the Major emphatically; "and if you can arrange it, I know you will lift a load off Genesee's mind. I'll wager he is out there in the shed with her at this moment, instead of beside a comfortable fire; and this camp owes him too much, if it only knew it, to keep from him any comforts for either himself or that plucky bit of horse-flesh."

Then the trio, under guard of the Lieutenant, paid some other calls along the avenue – were offered more dinners, if they would remain, than they could have eaten in a week; but in all their visits they saw nothing more of the scout. Rachel spoke of his return to one of the men, and received the answer that they reckoned he was putting in most of his time out in the shed tying the blankets off his bunk around that mare of his.

"Poor Mowitza! she was so beautiful," said the girl, with a memory of the silken coat and wise eyes. "I should not like to see her looking badly."

"Do you know," said Stuart to her, "that when I heard you speak of Mowitza and her beauty and bravery, I never imagined you meant a four-footed animal?"

"What, then?"

"Well, I am afraid it was a nymph of the dusky tribe – a woman."

"Naturally!" was the one ironical and impatient word he received as answer, and scarcely noted.

He was talking with the others on multitudinous subjects, laughing, and trying to appear interested in jests that he scarcely heard, and all the while the hand he had offered to Genesee clenched and opened nervously in his seal glove.

Rachel watched him closely, for her instincts had anticipated something unusual from that meeting; the actual had altered all her preconceived fancies. More strong than ever was her conviction that those two were not strangers; but from Stuart's face or manner she could learn nothing. He was a much better actor than Genesee.

They did not see any more of him, yet he saw them; for from the shed, off several rods from the avenue, the trail to Hardy's ranch was in plain sight half its length. And the party, augmented by Lieutenant Murray, galloped past in all ignorance of moody eyes watching them from the side of a blanketed horse.

Out a half-mile, two of the riders halted a moment, while the others dashed on. The horses of those two moved close – close together. The arms of the man reached over to the woman, who leaned toward him. At that distance it looked like an embrace, though he was really but tying a loose scarf, and then they moved apart and went on over the snow after their comrades. A brutal oath burst from the lips of the man she had said was worse than few.

"If it is – I'll kill him this time! By God! – I'll kill him!"

CHAPTER IX.

AFTER TEN YEARS

Major Dreyer left the next day, with a scout and small detachment, with the idea of making the journey to Fort Owens and back in two weeks, as matters were to be discussed requiring prompt action and personal influence.

Jack Genessee was left behind – an independent, unenlisted adjunct to the camp, and holding a more anomalous position there than Major Dreyer dreamed of; for none of the suspicious current of the scout ever penetrated to his tent – the only one in the company who was ignorant of them.

"Captain Holt commands, Genesee," he had said before taking leave; "but on you I depend chiefly in negotiations with the reds, should there be any before I get back, for I believe you would rather save lives on both sides than win a victory through extermination of the hostiles. We need more men with those opinions; so, remember, I trust you."

The words had been uttered in the presence of others, and strengthened the suspicions of the camp that Genesee had been playing some crooked game. None knew the reason for that hastily decided trip of the Major's, though they all agreed that that "damned skunk of a squaw man" was posted. Prophecies were rife to the effect that more than likely he was playing into the hands of the hostiles by sending away the Major and as many men as possible on some wild-goose chase; and the decision arrived at was that observation of his movements was a matter of policy, and readiness to meet an attack from the hills a probable necessity.

He saw it – had seen it from the day of his arrival – and he kept pretty much out of the way of all except Kalitan; for in watching Genesee they found they would have to include his runner, who was never willingly far away.

During the first few days their watching was an easy matter, for the suspected individual appeared well content to hug the camp, only making daily visits to Hardy's stable, generally in the evening; but to enter the house was something he avoided.

"No," he said, in answer to Hardy's invitation; "I reckon I'm more at home with the horses than with your new company. I'll drop in sometime after the Kootenai valley is clear of uniforms."

"My wife told me to ask you," said Hardy; "and when you feel like coming, you'll find the door open."

"Thank you, Hardy; but I reckon not – not for awhile yet."

"I'd like you to get acquainted with Stuart," added the unsuspicious ranchman. "He is a splendid fellow, and has become interested in this part of the country."

"Oh, he has?"

"Yes," and Hardy settled himself, Mexican fashion, to a seat on his heels. "You see he's a writer, a novelist, and I guess he's going to write up this territory. Anyway, this is the second trip he has made. You could give him more points than any man I know."

"Yes – I might."

"Rachel has given him all the knowledge she has about the country – the Indians, and all that – but she owns that all she learned she got from you; so, if you had a mind to be more sociable, Genesee – "

The other arose to his feet.

"Obliged to you, Hardy," he said; and only the addition of the name saved it from curtness. "Some day, perhaps, when things are slack; I have no time now."

"Well, he doesn't seem to me to be rushed to death with work," soliloquized Hardy, who was abruptly left alone. "He used to seem like such an all-round good fellow, but he's getting surlier than the devil. May be Tillie was right to hope he wouldn't accept the invitation. Hello, Stuart! Where are you bound for?"

"Nowhere in particular. I thought that Indian, Kalitan, was over here."

"No; Jack Genesee came over himself this morning. That mare of his is coming up in great shape, and you'd better believe he's proud over it. I reckon he saw you coming that he took himself away in such a hurry. He's a queer one."

"I should judge so. Then Kalitan won't be over?"

"Well, he's likely to be before night. Want him?"

"Yes. If you see him, will you send him to the house?"

Hardy promised; and Kalitan presented himself, with the usual interrogation:

"Rashell Hardy?"

But she, the head of the house in his eyes, was in the dark about his visit, and was not enlightened much when Stuart entered, stating that it was he who had wanted Kalitan.

That personage was at once deaf and dumb. Only by Rachel saying, "He is my friend; will you not listen?" did he unbend at all; and the girl left them on the porch alone, and a little later Stuart went upstairs, where she heard him walking up and down the room. She had heard a good deal of that since that day the three had called upon the Major, and a change had come over the spirit of their social world; for where Stuart had been the gayest, they could never depend on him now. Even Rachel found their old pleasant companionship ended suddenly, and she felt, despite his silence he was unhappy.

"Well, when he finds his tongue he will tell me what's the matter," she decided, and so dismissed that question.

She rode to camp alone if it was needful, and sometimes caught a glimpse of Genesee if he did not happen to see her first; but he no longer came forward to speak, as the rest did – only, perhaps, a touch of his hat and a step aside into some tent, and she knew she was avoided. A conventional young lady of orthodox tendencies would have held her head a little higher next time they met, and not have seen him at all; but this one was woefully deficient in those self-respecting bulwarks; so, the next time she happened to be at the end of the avenue, she turned her steed directly across his path, and called a halt.