Bindloss Harold
The Mistress of Bonaventure

CHAPTER XVII
THE RAISING OF THE SIEGE

They were splendid horsemen who rode to our assistance, and their beasts as fine; but a slight figure led them a clear length ahead. In another minute Gordon's men copied their leader, who trotted forward with his broad hat at his knee, and I rode bareheaded with – though I had forgotten this – an ensanguined face, to greet the mistress of Bonaventure. She was glowing with excitement, and I had never seen anything equal the fine damask in her cheeks. She started at the sight of me, and then impulsively held out a well-gloved hand.

"I hope you are not badly hurt?" she said.

"Only cut a trifle," I answered, gripping the little hand fervently. "You have done a great deal for us, and no doubt prevented serious bloodshed. It was wonderfully – "

"Don't. It was not in any way wonderful. My father was absent when Mr. Boone brought me the news, and, as you know, I am responsible for the prosperity of Bonaventure in his absence. Our cattle were in jeopardy."

She ceased abruptly, and grew pale, while I felt ashamed when I saw the cause of it. My hands had been reddened from clearing my eyes, and glove and wrist were foul with crimson stains. Courageous as she was, the girl had sickened at the sight of them.

"I can't excuse myself. You must try to forgive me," I said. "Please don't look at it."

Lucille Haldane promptly recovered from the shock of repulsion. "How could you help it – and you were hurt protecting our cattle. I can see the brand on some," she said. "It was very foolish of me to show such weakness."

"You must come back to the house with me at once and rest," I said. "I'm indebted to you, boys, but the best way you could help me would be to drive those cattle into the corral. Then, for you are probably tired and hungry, come up and see what Sally Steel can find for you."

The newcomers hesitated, and inquired whether they might not pursue and chastise our adversaries instead, but Lucille Haldane rebuked them. "You will do just what Rancher Ormesby tells you," she said; and, turning towards me, added: "I am ready to go with you."

Lucille was still a trifle pale, and wondering, because I could not see myself, that one with so much spirit should be affected by such a small thing, I presently dismounted and led her horse by the bridle. I had torn off the offending glove, and when we halted by the corral would have removed the stains from the wrist with a handkerchief.

"No," said Lucile, snatching her hand away just too late, with a gesture of dismay, "do not touch it with that, please."

Then I remembered that the handkerchief had last been used to rub out the fouled breach of a gun. The girl looked at the blur of red and black which resulted from my efforts, and frowned, then broke out into a rippling laugh. "Beatrice said your ways were refreshingly primitive, and I think she was right," she said.

The laugh put heart into me, but I still held the bridle with an ensanguined hand close beside the little smeared one; and so, followed by as fine an escort as a princess could desire, we came to my door side by side.

However, when I helped Lucille Haldane from the saddle I had misgivings concerning the reception Steel's sister might accord her. Sally's loyalty to her friends was worthy of her name; but she was stanchly democratic, more than a little jealous, and not addicted to concealing her prejudices. The fears were groundless. Sally was waiting in the doorway she had defended, and while I hoped for the best, the two stood a moment face to face. They were both worthy of inspection, though the contrast between them was marked. Haldane's daughter was slight and slender, with grace and refinement stamped equally on every line of her delicately chiseled face and on the curve of her dainty figure down to the little feet beneath the riding skirt. Sally was round and ruddy of countenance, stalwart in frame, with the carriage of an Amazon, and, I think, could have crushed Lucille with a grip of her arms; but both had an ample portion of the spirit of their race.

Then Steel's sister, stepping forward, took both the girl's hands within her own, stooped a little, and kissed her on each cheek, after which she drew her into the house, leaving her brother and myself equally astonished. He looked at me whimsically, and though I tried, I could not frown.

"That's about the last thing I expected. How does it strike you?" he said. "Afraid of committing yourself? Well, I don't mind allowing I expected most anything else. All women are curious, but there's no understanding Sally."

We were not left long to wonder, for Miss Steel reappeared in the doorway.

"You two still standing there as if there were nothing to do! Get a big fire on in the outside stove and kill about half the chickens. You're not to come in, Harry Ormesby, until I've fixed you so you're fit to be seen."

I feared that Lucille heard her, and wondered what she thought. Our mode of life was widely different from that at Bonaventure and from what would have been for me possible had I not fallen into the hands of Lane.

We slew the chickens with the assistance of the newcomers, and sat down on the grass to pluck them, a fowl for every guest, although I was slightly uncertain whether that would be sufficient. There is a similarity between the very old and the very new, and ancient poets perhaps best portray the primitive, sometimes heroic, life of effort the modern stockrider and plowman lead on the prairie.

"Why did you bring Miss Haldane, Boone? You should have known better than to allow her to run the slightest risk," I said, on opportunity; and the photographer smiled enigmatically.

"Miss Haldane did not ask my permission, and I am doubtful whether anybody could have prevented her. She said she was mistress of Bonaventure, and the way the men stirred when she told them was proof enough that one could believe her."

Presently Sally came out with a roll of sticking-plaster, and, while every bachelor present offered assistance and advice, she proceeded to "fix me," as she expressed it. Then, amid a burst of laughter, she stood back a little to survey her work with pride.

"I guess you can come in. You look too nice for anything. Gordon and Adams, you'll walk in, too. The rest will find all you want in the cook shed, and it will be your own fault if you don't help yourselves."

I was a little astonished when, with a cloth bound round my head, I entered the house, for Miss Steel was in some respects a genius. There was no trace of disorder. Sally was immaculately neat; Lucille Haldane might never have passed the door of Bonaventure; and the two had apparently become good friends, while a table had been set out with Sally's pretty crockery, and, as I noticed, an absolutely spotless cloth, which was something of a rarity. I was glad of the presence of Boone, for Gordon was a big, gaunt, silent man, and the events of the day had driven any conversational gifts we possessed out of both Steel and myself. When it pleased him, Adams, by which name alone he was known to the rest, could entertain anybody, and that, too, in their own particular idiom. There was no trace of the pedlar about him now, and his English was the best spoken in the Old Country. I noticed Lucille Haldane looked hard at him when she took her place at the table.

"It is curious, but I have been haunted by a feeling that we have met before to-day," she said. "If I am mistaken, it must have been somebody who strongly resembles you."

For just a moment Boone looked uneasy, but he answered with a smile: "I don't monopolize all the good looks on the prairie."

The girl flashed a swift sidelong glance at me, and I feared my countenance was too wooden to be natural. "I am sure of the resemblance now, though there is a change. It was one evening at Bonaventure, was it not?" she said. "Have you forgotten me?"

"That would be impossible," and Boone bent his head a little as he made the best of it. "I see that, if necessary I could rely on Miss Haldane's kindness a second time."

Lucille looked thoughtful, Sally inquisitive, and I feared the latter might complicate circumstances by attempting to probe the mystery. Neither Gordon nor Steel noticed anything, but Boone was a judge of character and Lucille keen of wit. He asked nothing further, but I saw a question in his eyes.

"I think you could do so," she said. "You seem to have trusty friends, Rancher Ormesby; though that is not surprising on the prairie."

The words were simply spoken, and wholly unstudied; but Lucille Haldane had a very graceful way, and there was that in her eyes which brought a sparkle into those of Sally, and I saw had made the silent Gordon her slave. Her gift of fascination was part of her birthright, and she used it naturally without taint of artifice.

"Could anybody doubt it after to-day?" I said.

Then Boone smiled dryly. "I suppose it devolves upon me to acknowledge the compliment, and I am afraid that some of his friends are better than he deserves," he said. "At least, I am willing to testify that Rancher Ormesby does not importune them, for I never met any man slower to accept either good advice or well-meant assistance. Have you not found it so, Miss Steel?"

"All you men are foolish, and most of you slow," Sally answered archly. "I had to convince one with a big hard brush to-day."

This commenced the relation of reminiscences, mostly humorous, of the affray, for we could afford to laugh, and all joined in the burst of merriment which rose from outside when several horsemen came up at a gallop across the prairie. A stockrider of Caledonian extraction had borrowed my banjo to amuse his comrades, and they appreciated his irony when he played the new arrivals in to the tune of "The Campbells are coming."

Then he took off his hat to the uniformed figure which led the advance. "Ye're surely lang in comin', Sergeant, dear," he said.

There was another roar of laughter, and I heard Mackay's voice. "It was no' my fault, and ye should ken what kind of horses ye sell the Government; but now I'm here I'm tempted to arrest the whole of ye for unlawful rioting!"

He halted in the doorway with displeasure in his face, and, disregarding my invitation, waited until Miss Haldane bade him be seated, while before commencing an attack upon a fowl, he said dryly: "Maybe I had better begin my business first. It would be a poor return to eat your supper and than arrest ye, Ormesby."

"You had better make sure of the supper, and if you can take me out of the hands of my allies you are welcome to," I said.

Boone's lips twitched once or twice as though in enjoyment of a hidden joke as he discoursed with the sergeant upon the handling of mounted men and horses. He showed, I fancied, a curious knowledge of cavalry equipment and maneuvers, and Mackay was evidently struck with his opinions. I also saw Lucille Haldane smile when the sergeant said: "If ever ye pass my station come in and see me. It's a matter o' regret to me I had not already met ye."

"Thanks," said Boone, just moving his eyebrows as he looked across at me. "I narrowly missed spending some time in your company a little while ago."

"And now to business," said Mackay, with a last regretful glance at the skeletonized chicken. "From what I gather ye are all of ye implicated. I would like an account from Mr. Adams and Miss Haldane first."

"How did you come here instead of Gardiner; and how do you know there is anything for you to trouble about?" I asked, and the sergeant showed a trace of impatience.

"Gardiner goes back to-morrow. Ye are my own particular sheep, and it would take a new man ten years to learn the contrariness of ye. I heard some talk at the railroad and came on in a hurry. Do ye usually nail your stable or cut your own head open, Rancher Ormesby?"

Each in turn furnished an account of the affray, I last of all; and Mackay expressed no opinion until Lucille Haldane asked him: "Was it not justifiable for me to take measures to protect my father's cattle?"

"Supposing the Bonaventure brand had not been on that draft, and Lane's men retained possession, what would ye have done?" was the shrewd rejoinder; and Lucille smiled as she looked steadily at the speaker.

"I really think, sergeant, that I should have ridden over them."

Mackay seemed to struggle with some natural feeling; but the silent rancher smote the table. "By the Lord, you would, and I'd have given five hundred dollars to go through beside you!" he said.

"Ye are quite old enough to ken better," said Mackay sententiously; and the rancher squared his shoulders as he answered:

"I'm as good as any two of your troopers yet, and was never run into a cattle corral. When I'm old enough to be useless I'll join the police."

"What were ye meaning?" asked the sergeant.

Gordon laughed. "Just that, for a tired man, it's a nice soft berth. You take your money and as much care as you can that you never turn up until the trouble's over!"

Before Mackay could retort, Lucille, smiling, raised her hand. "I think you should both know better, and I want you to tell me, sergeant, what will be the end of this. Surely nobody has any right to drive off cattle and horses that don't belong to him?"

Mackay looked somewhat troubled, and one could guess that while eager to please the fair questioner, he shrank with official caution from committing himself. "It's not my part to express an opinion on points that puzzle some lawyers," he said. "Still, I might tell ye that it will cost one man his position. Human nature's aye deceitful, Miss Haldane, and if Rancher Ormesby prosecuted them it would be just two or three men's word against a dozen. Forby, they might make out illegal resistance against him!"

"Sergeant," said Lucille Haldane, looking at him severely, "dare you tell me that you would not take the word of three ranchers against the oath of a dozen such men as Lane?"

Mackay smiled, though he answered dryly: "They're both hard to manage, and ungrateful for their benefits; but maybe I would. Still, I am, ye see, neither judge nor jury. Would ye prefer a charge against them, Ormesby?"

I was willing enough to do so, but had already reflected. Every moment of my time was needed, the nearest seat of justice was far away, and it would be only helping Lane if I wasted days attempting to substantiate a charge. I also surmised by his prompt disappearance when the fracas became serious that it would be very difficult to implicate my enemy, even if he did not turn the tables on me. Boone, when I looked at him, made a just perceptible negative movement with his head.

"I must leave this affair to the discretion of the police," I said. "Several of Lane's friends have good cause to be sorry for themselves already, and it is hardly likely his action will be repeated."

Mackay said nothing further, and shortly afterwards Lucille said she must take her departure. Sally stood smiling in the doorway while the riders of Bonaventure did her homage, and those whose compliments did not please her suffered for their clumsiness. When I rode out with Lucille Haldane there was a lifting of wide hats, and the sergeant, sitting upright in his saddle, saluted her as we passed with several splendid horsemen riding on each side.

I afterwards heard that Sally said to him mischievously: "I guess you men don't quite know everything. How long did it take you to break your troopers in? Yonder's a slip of a girl who knows nothing of discipline or drill, and there's not a man in all that outfit wouldn't ride right into the place where bad policemen go if she told him to. As good as your troopers, aren't they? What are you thinking now?"

The sergeant followed her pointing hand, and, as it happened, Lucille and I were just passing beyond the rise riding close together side by side. Mackay looked steadily after us, and doubtless noticed that Lucille rode very well. "I would not blame them. I'm just thinking I'm sorry for Corporal Cotton," he said.

Sally looked away across the prairie, and, turning, saw a faint smile fade out of the sergeant's face. "What do you mean? Can't you ever talk straight like a sensible man?" she asked.

"The corporal's young, an' needs considerable convincing," was the dry answer.

When we dipped beyond the rise I turned to Lucille Haldane. "What did you think of Sally? She is a stanch ally, but not always effusive to strangers," I said.

I could not at the moment understand Lucille Haldane's expression. The question was very simple, but the girl showed a trace of confusion, and was apparently troubled as to how she should frame the answer. This did not, however, last long, and when she raised her eyes to mine there was in them the same look of confidence there had been when she said, "I believe in you." It was very pleasant to see.

"I think a great deal of her, and must repeat what I said already. You have very loyal friends. Miss Steel told me at length how kind you had been to her and her brother, and I think they will fully repay you."

My wits must have been sharpened, for I understood, and blessed both Sally and the speaker. If Lucille Haldane, being slow to think evil, had faith in those she knew, it was possible she was glad of proof to justify the confidence, and Sally must have furnished it.

"They have done so already," I said.

There was always something very winning about my companion, but she had never appeared so desirable as she did just then. The day was drawing towards its close, and the light in the west called up the warm coloring that the wind and sun had brought into her face and showed each grace of the slight figure silhouetted against it. The former was, perhaps, not striking at first sight, though, with its setting of ruddy gold, and its hazel eyes filled with swift changes, it was pretty enough; but its charm grew upon one, and I noticed that when she patted the horse's neck the dumb beast moved as though it loved her. There was nothing of the Amazon about its rider except her courage.

"I have heard a good deal about your enemy and yourself of late, but there are several points that puzzle me, and, though I know you have his sympathies, father is not communicative," she said. "For instance, if you do not resent the allusion, he could with so little trouble have made a difference in the result of your sale."

"How could that be?" I asked, merely to see how far the speaker's interest in my affairs had carried her, and she answered: "Even if there had been nothing we needed at Bonaventure he could have made the others pay fair prices for all they bought. I cannot understand why he said it was better not to do so."

I also failed to understand; but a light broke in upon me. "Did you suggest that he should?" I asked, and the girl answered with some reluctance: "Yes; was it not natural that I should?"

"No one who knew you could doubt it," I said; and Lucille Haldane presently dismissed me. I sat still and watched her and her escort diminish across the long levels, and then rode slowly back towards Crane Valley. Remembering Haldane's mention of a promise, the news that it was his younger daughter who sent him to my assistance brought at first a shock of disappointment. I had already convinced myself that Beatrice Haldane must remain very far beyond my reach, but the thought that she had remembered me and sent what help she could had been comforting, nevertheless. Now it seemed that she had forgotten, and that that consolation must be abandoned, too. And yet the disappointment was not so crushing but that I could bear it with the rest. What might have been had passed beyond the limits of possibility, and there was nothing in the future to look forward to except a struggle against poverty and the wiles of my enemy.

Steel took my horse when I rode up to the house, and it was a coincidence that his first remark should be: "We beat him badly this time and he'll lie low a while. Then I guess you'll want both eyes open when he tries his luck again."

CHAPTER XVIII
THE VIGIL-KEEPER

It was a clear starlit night when I rode across a tract of the Assiniboian prairie, some two hundred miles east of Crane Valley. A half-moon hung in the cloudless ether, and the endless levels, lying very silent under its pale radiance, seemed to roll away into infinity. They had no boundary, for the blueness above them melted imperceptibly through neutral gradations into the earth below, which, gathering strength of tone, stretched back again to the center of the lower circle a vast sweep of silvery gray.

There was absolute stillness, not even a grass blade moved; but the air was filled with the presage of summer, and the softness of the carpet, which returned no sound beneath the horse's feet, had its significance. That sod had been bleached by wind-packed snow and bound into iron hardness by months of arctic frost. Bird and beast had left it, and the waste had lain empty under the coldness of death; but life had once more conquered, and the earth was green again. Even among the almost unlettered born upon it there are few men impervious to the influence of the prairie on such a night; and in days not long gone by the half-breed voyageurs told strange stories of visions seen on it during the lonely journeys they made for the great fur-trading company. Its vastness and its emptiness impresses the human atom who becomes conscious of an indefinite awe or is uplifted by an exaltation which vanishes with the dawn, for there are times when, through the silence of measureless spaces, man's spirit rises into partial touch with the greater things unseen.

My errand was prosaic enough – merely to buy cattle for Haldane and others on a sliding-scale arrangement. I could see a possibility of some small financial benefit, and that being so had reluctantly left Crane Valley, where I was badly needed, because the need of money was even greater. Also, as time was precious, I had decided to travel all night instead of spending it as a guest of the last farmer with whom I bargained. I was at that time neither very imaginative nor oversentimental; but the spell of the prairie was stronger than my will, and, yielding to it, I rode dreamily, so it seemed, beyond the reach of petty troubles and the clamor of our sordid strife into a shadowy land of peace which, defying the centuries, had retained unchanged its solemn stillness. The stars alone sufficed to call up the fancy, for there being neither visible heavens nor palpable atmosphere, only a blue transparency, the eye could follow the twinkling points of flame far backwards from one to another through the unknown spaces beyond our little globe. Nothing seemed impossible on such a night, and only the touch of the bridle and the faint jingle of metal material.

It was in this mood that I became conscious of a shadow object near the foot of a rise. It did not seem a natural portion of the prairie, and when I had covered some distance it resolved itself into a horse and a dismounted man. His broad hat hung low in his hand, his head was bent, and he stood so intent that I had almost ridden up to him before he turned and noticed me. Then, as I checked my horse, I saw that it was Boone.

"What has brought you here?" I asked.

"That I cannot exactly tell you when we know so little of the influences about us on such a night as this. It is at least one stage of a pilgrimage I must make," he said.

Had this answer been given me in the sunlight I should have doubted the speaker's mental balance, but one sets up a new standard of sanity on the starlit prairie on a night of spring, and I saw only that the spell was also upon him. He held a great bunch of lilies (which do not grow on the bare Western levels) in one hand, and his face was changed. Even in Boone's reckless humor there had been a sardonic vein which sometimes added a sting to the jest, and I knew what the shadow was that accounted for his fits of silent grimness. Now he seemed strangely calm, but rather reverent than sad.

"I cannot understand you," I said.

"No?" he answered quietly. "How soon you have forgotten; but you helped me once. Come, and I will show you."

He tethered his horse to an iron peg, beckoned me to do the same, and then, moving forward until we stood on the highest of the rise, pointed to something that rose darkly from the grass. Then I remembered, and swung my hat to my knee, as my eyes rested on a little wooden cross. Following the hand he stretched out, I could read the rude letters cut on it – "Helen Boone."

He stooped, and, I fancied with some surprise, lifted a glass vessel from beneath a handful of withered stalks. He shook them out gently, laid the fresh blossoms in their place, and a faint fragrance rose like incense through the coolness of the dew. Then he turned, and I followed him to where we had left the horses. "There are still kind souls on this earth, and one of them placed that vessel under the last flowers I left. You have a partial answer to your question now."

I bent my head, and seeing that he was not averse to speech, said quietly: "You come here sometimes? It is a long journey."

"Yes," was the answer; and Boone's voice vibrated. "She who sleeps there gave up a life of luxury for me; and is a three-hundred-mile journey too much to make, or a summer night too long to watch beside her? I am drawn here, and there are times when one wonders if it is possible for us to rise into partial communion with those who have passed into the darkness before us."

"It is all," I answered gravely, "a mystery to me. Can you conceive such a possibility?"

"Not in any tangible shape to such as I, but this at least I know. In spite of the destruction of the mortal clay, when I can see my way no further, and lose courage in my task, fresh strength comes to me after a night spent here."

"Your task?" I said. "I guessed that there was a motive behind your wanderings."

"There is one," and Boone's voice rose to its natural level. "The wagon journeys suit it well. Had Lane ruined me alone I should have tried to pay my forfeit for inexperience and the risk I took gracefully; but when I saw the woman, who had lain down so much for me, fading day by day that he might add to his power of oppressing others the money which would have saved her life, the case was different. The last part he played in the pitiful drama was that of murderer, and the loss he inflicted on me one that could never be forgiven."

"And you are waiting revenge?" I asked.

"No." Boone looked back towards the crest of the rise. "At first I did so, but it is justice that prompts me now. I have a full share of human passions, and once I lay in wait for him with a rifle – my throat parched and a fire of torment in my heart; but when he passed at midnight within ten paces I held my hand and let him go. Perhaps it was because I could not take the life of even that venomous creature in cold blood, and feared he would not face me. Perhaps another will was stronger than my own, for, with every purpose strained against what seemed weakness, it was borne in on me that I could not force him to stand with a weapon, and that I dare not kill him groveling. Then the power went out of me, and I let him go. Yet I have twice lain long hours in hot sand under a deadly rifle fire, Ormesby. There are many mysteries, and as yet it is very little that we know."

"But you are following him still, are you not?" I asked. And Boone continued: "As I said, it is for justice, and it was here I learned the difference. I would not take the reptile's life unless he met me armed in the daylight, which he would never do; but for the sake of others – you and the rest, whose toil and blood he fattens on – I am waiting and working for the time when, without a crime, it may be possible to end his career of evil."

We were both silent for a few minutes, and I felt that Boone's task, self-imposed or otherwise, was a worthy one. Lane was a man without either anger or compassion – an incarnation of cunning and avarice more terrible to human welfare than any legendary monster of the olden time. It was no figure of speech to declare that he fattened on poor men's blood and agony, and his overthrow could not be anything but a blessing. Still, it was in prosaic speech that, considering the practical aspect of the question, I said: "I wish you luck, but you will need a long patience, besides time and money."

"I have them," was the answer. "The first was the hardest to acquire. Time – I could wait ages if I knew the end was certain; and, as to money, when it came too late to save her, someone died in the old country, and part of the property fell to me. Well, you can guess my purpose – using all means short of bloodshed and perjury to take him in his own net. She who sleeps there was pitiful and gentle, but she hated oppression and cruelty, and I feel that if she knows – and I think it is so – she would smile on me."

Boone's face was plain before me under the moon. It was quietly confident, calm, and yet stamped with a solemn purpose. He had, it seemed, mastered his passions, and would perhaps be the more dangerous because he followed tirelessly, with brain unclouded by hatred or impatience. I felt that there was much I should say in the shape of encouragement and sympathy, but the only words that rose to my lips were: "He has fiendish cunning."

"And I was once a careless fool!" said Boone. "Still, the most cunning forget, and blunder at times. I, however, can never forget, and when he does, it will be ill for Lane. I have – I don't know why – spoken to you, Ormesby, as I have spoken to no man in the Dominion before, and I feel I need ask no promise of you. I am going east with the sunrise, but I must be alone now."

I left him to keep his vigil with his dead, and camped in a hollow some distance away. That is to say, I tethered the horse, rolled a thick brown blanket round me, and used the saddle for a pillow. There was no hardship in this. The grasses, if a trifle damp, were soft and springy, the night still and warm; and many a better man has slept on a worse bed in the Western Dominion. Slumber did not, however, come at first, and I lay watching the stars, neither asleep nor wholly awake, until they grew indistinct, and a woman's figure, impalpable as the moonlight, gathered shape upon a rise of the prairie.