When The Sun Goes Away
: Good Indian"I wish," said Phoebe, putting her two hands on Miss Georgie's shoulders
at the gate and looking up at her with haggard eyes, "you'd see what
you can do with Vadnie. The poor child's near crazy; she ain't used to
seeing such things happen--"
"Where is she?" Good Indian asked tersely, and was answered immediately
by the sound of sobbing on the east porch. The three went together, but
it was Grant who reach
"Don't cry, Goldilocks," he said tenderly, bending over her. "It's all
right now. There isn't going to be any more--"
"Oh! Don't TOUCH me!" She sprang up and backed from him, horror plain in
her wide eyes. "Make him keep away, Aunt Phoebe!"
Good Indian straightened, and stood perfectly still, looking at her in a
stunned, incredulous way.
"Chicken, don't be silly!" Miss Georgie's sane tones were like a breath
of clean air. "You've simply gone all to pieces. I know what nerves can
do to a woman--I've had 'em myself. Grant isn't going to bite you, and
you're not afraid of him. You're proud of him, and you know it. He's
acted the man, chicken!--the man we knew he was, all along. So pull
yourself together, and let's not have any nonsense."
"He--KILLED a man! I saw him do it. And he's going to kill some more. I
might have known he was like that! I might have KNOWN when he tried to
shoot me that night in the orchard when I was trying to scare Gene! I
can show you the mark--where he grazed my arm! And he LAUGHED about it!
I called him a savage then--and I was RIGHT--only he can be so nice when
he wants to be--and I forgot about the Indian in him--and then he killed
Mr. Baumberger! He's lying out there now! I'd rather DIE than let him--"
Miss Georgie clapped a hand over her mouth, and stopped her. Also, she
gripped her by the shoulder indignantly.
"'Vadna Ramsey, I'm ashamed of you!" she cried furiously. "For Heaven's
sake, Grant, go on off somewhere and wait till she settles down. Don't
stand there looking like a stone image--didn't you ever see a case
of nerves before? She doesn't know what she's saying--if she did, she
wouldn't be saying it. You go on, and let me handle her alone. Men are
just a nuisance in a case like this."
She pushed Evadna before her into the kitchen, waited until Phoebe had
followed, and then closed the door gently and decisively upon Grant. But
not before she had given him a heartening smile just to prove that he
must not take Evadna seriously, because she did not.
"We'd better take her to her room, Mrs. Hart," she suggested, "and make
her lie down for a while. That poor fellow--as if he didn't have enough
on his hands without this!"
"I'm not on his hands! And I won't lie down!" Evadna jerked away from
Miss Georgie, and confronted them both pantingly, her cheeks still wet
with tears. "You act as if I don't know what I'm doing' and I DO know.
If I should lie down for a MILLION YEARS, I'd feel just the same about
it. I couldn't bear him to TOUCH me! I--"
"For Heaven's sake, don't shout it," Miss Georgie interrupted,
exasperatedly. "Do you want him--"
"To hear? I don't care whether he does or not." Evadna was turning
sullen at the opposition. "He'll have to know it SOME TIME, won't he? If
you think can forgive a thing like that and let--"
"He had to do it. Baumberger would have killed HIM. He had a perfect
right to kill. He'd have been a fool and a coward if he hadn't. You come
and lie down a while."
"I WON'T lie down. I don't care if he did have to do it--I couldn't
love him afterward. And he didn't have to go down there and threaten
Stanley--and--HE'LL DO IT, TOO!" She fell to trembling again. "He'll DO
it--at sundown."
Phoebe and Miss Georgie looked at each other. He would, if the men
stayed. They knew that.
"And I was going to marry him!" Evadna shuddered when she said it, and
covered her face with her two hands. "He wasn't sorry afterward; you
could see he wasn't sorry. He was ready to kill more men. It's the
Indian in him. He LIKES to kill people. He'll kill those men, and he
won't be a bit sorry he did it. And he could come to me afterward and
expect me--Oh, what does he think I AM?" She leaned against the wall,
and sobbed.
"I suppose," she wailed, lashing herself with every bitter thought
she could conjure, "he killed Saunders, too, like old Hagar said. He
wouldn't tell me where he was that morning. I asked him, and he wouldn't
tell. He was up there killing Saunders--"
"If you don't shut up, I'll shake you!" Miss Georgie in her fury did not
wait, but shook her anyway as if she had been a ten-year-old child in a
tantrum.
"My Heavens above! I'll stand for nerves and hysterics, and almost any
old thing, but you're going a little bit too far, my lady. There's no
excuse for your talking such stuff as that, and you're not going to
do it, if I have to gag you! Now, you march to your own room and--STAY
there. Do you hear? And don't you dare let another yip out of you till
you can talk sense."
Good Indian stood upon the porch, and heard every word of that. He heard
also the shuffle of feet as Miss Georgie urged Evadna to her room--it
sounded almost as if she dragged her there by force--and he rolled a
cigarette with fingers that did not so much as quiver. He scratched a
match upon the nearest post, and afterward leaned there and smoked,
and stared out over the pond and up at the bluff glowing yellow in
the sunlight. His face was set and expressionless except that it was
stoically calm, and there was a glitter deep down in his eyes. Evadna
was right, to a certain extent the Indian in him held him quiet.
It occurred to him that someone ought to pick up Baumberger, and put him
somewhere, but he did not move. The boys and Peaceful must have stayed
down in the garden, he thought. He glanced up at the tops of the nodding
poplars, and estimated idly by their shadow on the bluff how long it
would be before sundown, and as idly wondered if Stanley and the others
would go, or stay. There was nothing they could gain by staying, he
knew, now that Baumberger was out of it. Unless they got stubborn
and wanted to fight. In that case, he supposed he would eventually be
planted alongside his father. He wished he could keep the boys and old
Peaceful out of it, in case there was a fight, but he knew that would be
impossible. The boys, at least, had been itching for something like this
ever since the trouble started.
Good Indian had, not so long ago, spent hours in avoiding all thought
that he might prolong the ecstasy of mere feeling. Now he had reversed
the desire. He was thinking of this thing and of that, simply that he
might avoid feeling. If someone didn't kill him within the next hour or
so, he was going to feel something--something that would hurt him more
than he had been hurt since his father died in that same house. But in
the meantime he need only think.
The shadow of the grove, with the long fingers of the poplars to
point the way, climbed slowly up the bluff. Good Indian smoked another
cigarette while he watched it. When a certain great bowlder that was
like a miniature ledge glowed rosily and then slowly darkened to a chill
gray, he threw his cigarette stub unerringly at a lily-pad which had
courtesied many a time before to a like missile from his hand, pulled
his hat down over his eyes, jumped off the porch, and started around the
house to the gate which led to the stable.
Phoebe came out from the sitting-room, ran down the steps, and barred
his way.
"Grant!" she said, and there were tears in her eyes, "don't do anything
rash--don't. If it's for our sakes--and I know it is--don't do it.
They'll go, anyway. We'll have the law on them and make them go. But
don't YOU go down there. You let Thomas handle that part. You're like
one of my own boys. I can't let you go!"
He looked down at her commiseratingly. "I've got to go, Mother Hart.
I've made my war-talk." He hesitated, bent his head, and kissed her on
the forehead as she stood looking up at him, and went on.
"Grant--GRANT!" she cried heartbrokenly after him, and sank down on the
porch-steps with her face hidden in her arms.
Miss Georgie was standing beside the gate, looking toward the stable.
She may not have been waiting for him, but she turned without any show
of surprise when he walked up behind her.
"Well, your jumpers seem to have taken the hint," she informed him, with
a sort of surface cheerfulness. "Stanley is down there talking to Mr.
Hart now, and the others have gone on. They'll all be well over the
dead-line by sundown. There goes Stanley now. Do you really feel that
your future happiness depends on getting through this gate? Well--if you
must--" She swung it open, but she stood in the opening.
"Grant, I--it's hard to say just what I want to say--but--you did right.
You acted the man's part. No matter what--others--may think or say,
remember that I think you did right to kill that man. And if there's
anything under heaven that I can do, to--to help--you'll let me do it,
won't you?" Her eyes held him briefly, unabashed at what they might
tell. Then she stepped back, and contradicted them with a little laugh.
"I will get fired sure for staying over my time," she said. "I'll wire
for the coroner soon as I get to the office. This will never come to a
trial, Grant. He was like a crazy man, and we all saw him shoot first."
She waited until he had passed through and was a third of the way to
the stable where Peaceful Hart and his boys were gathered, and then she
followed him briskly, as if her mind was taken up with her own affairs.
"It's a shame you fellows got cheated out of a scrap," she taunted Jack,
who held her horse for her while she settled herself in the saddle. "You
were all spoiling for a fight--and there did seem to be the makings of a
beautiful row!"
Save for the fact that she kept her eyes studiously turned away from a
certain place near by, where the dust was pressed down smoothly with
the weight of a heavy body, and all around was trampled and tracked, one
could not have told that Miss Georgie remembered anything tragic.
But Good Indian seemed to recall something, and went quickly over to her
just in time to prevent her starting.
"Was there something in particular you wanted when you came?" he asked,
laying a hand on the neck of the bay. "It just occurred to me that there
must have been."
She leaned so that the others could not hear, and her face was grave
enough now.
"Why, yes. It's old Hagar. She came to me this afternoon, and she had
that bunch of hair you cut off that was snarled in the bush. She had
your knife. She wanted me to buy them--the old blackmailer! She made
threats, Grant--about Saunders. She says you--I came right down to tell
you, because I was afraid she might make trouble. But there was so much
more on hand right here"--she glanced involuntarily at the trampled
place in the dust. "She said she'd come back this evening, 'when the
sun goes away.' She's there now, most likely. What shall I tell her? We
can't have that story mouthed all over the country."
Good Indian twisted a wisp of mane in his fingers, and frowned
abstractedly.
"If you'll ride on slowly," he told her, at last straightening the
twisted lock, "I'll overtake you. I think I'd better see that old
Jezebel myself."
Secretly he was rather thankful for further action. He told the boys
when they fired questions at his hurried saddling that he was going to
take Miss Georgie home, and that he would be back before long; in an
hour, probably. Then he galloped down the trail, and overtook her at the
Point o' Rocks.
The sun was down, and the sky was a great, glowing mass of color. Round
the second turn of the grade they came upon Stanley, walking with his
hands thrust in his trousers pockets and whistling softly to himself as
if he were thinking deeply. Perhaps he was glad to be let off so easily.
"Abandoning my claim," he announced, lightly as a man of his prosaic
temperament could speak upon such a subject. "Dern poor placer mining
down there, if yuh want to know!"
Good Indian scowled at him and rode on, because a woman rode beside him.
Seven others they passed farther up the hill. Those seven gave him scowl
for scowl, and did not speak a word; that also because a woman rode
beside him. And the woman understood, and was glad that she was there.
From the Indian camp, back in the sage-inclosed hollow, rose a sound
of high-keyed wailing. The two heard it, and looked at each other
questioningly.
"Something's up over there," Good Indian said, answering her look. "That
sounds to me like the squaws howling over a death."
"Let's go and see. I'm so late now, a few minutes more won't matter, one
way or the other." Miss Georgie pulled out her watch, looked at it, and
made a little grimace. So they turned into the winding trail, and rode
into the camp.
There were confusion, and wailing, and a buzzing of squaws around a
certain wikiup. Dogs sat upon their haunches, and howled lugubriously
until someone in passing kicked them into yelping instead. Papooses
stood nakedly about, and regarded the uproar solemnly, running to peer
into the wikiup and then scamper back to their less hardy fellows. Only
the bucks stood apart in haughty unconcern, speaking in undertones when
they talked at all. Good Indian commanded Miss Georgie to remain just
outside the camp, and himself rode in to where the bucks were gathered.
Then he saw Peppajee sitting beside his own wikiup, and went to him
instead.
"What's the matter here, Peppajee?" he asked. "Heap trouble walk down at
Hart Ranch. Trouble walk here all same, mebbyso?"
Peppajee looked at him sourly, but the news was big, and it must be
told.
"Heap much trouble come. Squaw callum Hagar make much talk. Do much bad,
mebbyso. Squaw Rachel ketchum bad heart along yo'. Heap cry all time.
No sleepum, no eatum--all time heap sad. Ketchum bad spirit, mebbyso.
Ketchum debbil. Sun go 'way, ketchum knife, go Hagar wikiup.
Killum Hagar--so." He thrust out his arm as one who stabs. "Killum
himself--so." He struck his chest with his clenched fist. "Hagar heap
dead. Rachel heap dead. Kay bueno. Mebbyso yo' heap bad medicine. Yo'
go."
"A squaw just died," he told Miss Georgie curtly, when they rode on. But
her quick eyes noted a new look in his face. Before it had been grave
and stern and bitter; now it was sorrowful instead.
More
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To say the Sioux were furious at the failure of their second attempt would be putting it far too mildly. The fierce charge from the northward side, made under cover of the blinding smoke sent drifting by the gale across the level flats, had been p... Wrangle's Race Run
The plan eventually decided upon by the lovers was for Venters to go to the village, secure a horse and some kind of a disguise for Bess, or at least less striking apparel than her present garb, and to return post-haste to the valley. Mean... Yetmore's Mistake
Three months had elapsed when Tom Connor turned up one day with a very long face. All his drilling had brought no result; he was at the end of his tether; he could see no possible chance of ever repaying the borrowed money, and so, said he, would ... You Can Tell Jessie
In the days that followed Rowdy was much alone. There was water to hunt, far ahead of the herd, together with the most practicable way of reaching it. He did not take the shortest way across that arid country and leave the next day's camping-place t... You Can't Play With Me
Good Indian was young, which means that he was not always logical, nor much given to looking very far into the future except as he was personally concerned in what he might see there. By the time Sunday brought Miss Georgie Howard and the stir of pr... You Re Going To Love Me Before We Get Through
The Swinton barbecue was over. The fiddles were silent, the steer was eaten, the barrel emptied, or largely so, and the tapers extinguished; round the house and sunken fire all movement of guests was quiet; the families were long departed homeward... A Meeting On The River Trail
About ten o'clock in the morning of a perfect day Sheila left the Double R ranchhouse for a ride to the Two Forks to visit Doubler. This new world into which she had come so hopefully had lately grown very lonesome. It had promised much and it had... A Parting And A Visit
The problem which filled Duncan's mind as he sat on the edge of the slope overlooking the river was a three-sided one. To reach a conclusion the emotions of fear, hatred, and jealousy would have to be considered in the light of their relative impo... A Woman On The Trail
Many disquieting thoughts oppressed Miss Sheila Langford as she halted her pony on the crest of a slight rise and swept the desolate and slumberous world with an anxious glance. Quite the most appalling of these thoughts developed from a realizati... Bethune Pays A Call
It was past noon when Patty sank into the chair beside her table and glanced about her with a sigh of satisfaction. Warm June sunlight streamed through the open door and lay in a bright oblique patch upon the scrubbed floor. The girl's glance st... Bethune Tries Again
For several days following the incident of the two struggling horsemen, Patty rode, extending her quest farther and farther into the hills, and thus widening the circle of her exploration. She had overhauled her father's photographic outfit and fo...