Читать книгу Scarlett of the Mounted - Marguerite Merington - Страница 4

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THE WOMENKIND OF LOST SHOE CREEK

Dandy Raish swaggered up to the tent where he had an appointment with old Blenksoe, relating to a little matter of holding up the stage, but finding services in progress, he scattered a few flowers of profanity, and turned on his heel.

Scarlett, pacing to and fro while awaiting aid, caught sight of him. "Now, that's a gentleman whose company I'd fancy most in his absence, I'm thinking!" To escape the other's observation while making his own, he returned to his kindlings.

Developments came soon, first in the person of a woman wrapped in a red cloak, young and comely, but at the moment repulsive from the effects of a debauch. Reeling from the shelter of a ruined cabin, "Gumboot Annie!" she cried, "Gumboot Annie, for the love of heaven, trust me with the price of a drink!"

Finding the source of refreshments temporarily inaccessible, she threw herself on a bench, cursing religion, even as Raish had done.

"Furs for sale; snow-shoes, moccasins, furs, velly damn fine!" An Indian trader coming by recognized the girl, and accosted her. "Hello, Gelly! Shake!"

The girl complied good-naturedly. "Hello, Chilkat Jo!"

"Gelly, I love you!" stated Jo, in unimpassioned monotone. "Love you like hell-you-betyerlife! Say, Gelly, you mally me?"

"Say, Jo, that's a proposal, even if you ain't nothin' but a Siwash!"

"Me no Siwash!" Chilkat Jo drew himself up. "Me chew, swear, gamble, dlink like hell, plenty wives, all same as Clistian white man!"

"My, but you do give us a character," laughed the girl, "and I guess we've earned it all right, all right! But, no, Jo! I ain't sunk so low I'd marry you without I cared fer yer! Thar's only one man in the world fer me!" With a sigh she looked over at Dandy Raish, who, leaning against a Douglas spruce, was dressing his waxed mustache by the aid of a pocket looking-glass.

The Indian took his rejection with outward stoicism. "That's all light. Some day I kill him, cally you off, beat you, smash yer face, make you goddam' bad husband, all same as Clistian white man!" Then off he stalked, crying: "Furs for sale. Moccasins. Hair dye! Sacled images! Velly dam good sacled images!"

Gelly rose and timidly approached the object of her affections. "Raish! Dear Dandy, won't you speak to me?"

"Gelly!" The man turned on her with an oath. "Taggin' on as usual!"

"Raish, pop's turned me out, along of you, and I don't know whar ter go!"

"Such as you needn't look far! There, there, Gelly, don't get mad! I'm sorry for you; indeed I am!"

"Then marry me!"

"Me marry you! With my social gifts! Ha, ha! You're crazy! But I'll tell you what I will do: I'll help you out of this place; I'll get you a berth in a swell saloon at Skagway, with a big rake-off on every bottle that's uncorked and every bird that's plucked through you!"

"And me tryin' to be decent! Curse it all, I will be decent! You shall marry me!"

"I'll strangle you first!"

"Take your hands off that woman!"

Turning, Raish confronted a young giant, and being a coward he obeyed. "I can't spoil her!" he sneered.

"What is the trouble?" Scarlett asked of Gelly.

"None of your business," she replied, with feminine ingratitude.

"Is this your husband?"

"Sure!" At Raish's threatening gesture she modified the assertion. "In a sort of way!"

"The only sort of way he ever will be, you bet your boots," Raish flung back as, hands in pockets, he swaggered off.

"What is your name?" Scarlett asked the girl.

"Gelly!"

"Your full name? Gelly what?"

"Ah, now you're gettin' too familiar!" Sidling closer she remarked, approvingly: "Say, you're an awful pretty boy!"

"Stand off!" As the girl shrank back, cowering, he added more gently: "Go home to your parents!"

"My home! My parents! Aw, that's a good un! Ma sloped with a faro dealer from 'Frisco, and pop's turned me out!"

"Poor child! You must get away from this district! I will send you down to a mission, where good women will care for you!"

"A mission? No, sirree! Too slow fer me!" Gelly moved away, humming a ditty popular in low-class music-halls of the locality.

"Stop!" Scarlett sharply reprimanded. "Sing if you will! Sing all you can! The world has need of singing—but sing decent songs!" As a stirring hymn, accompanied by Bill's concertina, just then sounded from the tent, he went on: "Go in and help them! They need a woman's voice."

"What!" Gelly was genuinely astonished. "Such as me—in church!"

"My poor girl, churches are for such as you."

Gelly looked in, uncertainly, then hurriedly drew back. "I can't, mister. Pop's in thar—and pop has sworn ter kill me on sight! Pop's the bully of the district," she added, proudly.

"Hm!" Scarlett considered a moment, then felt in his pocket. "Here's needle and thread. Go mend your clothes!"

Gelly stared at him as she took the proffered housewife. "Say, you're a real white man. I never before——" Breaking into sudden sobbing, she went back to her cabin.

Sergeant Scarlett gave a comprehensive glance at the scenery, nature's magnificent setting for this squalid drama.

"This district has the name of being the hottest proposition this side of Hades," he reflected. "It contains an unsurveyed number of square miles and crooked inhabitants. And it needs just three things to clean it out. First, godliness, which only gets this way for a flying visit once a year. Next—and it's only modesty prevented my putting it first—law, which is just myself; and last, but foremost, women! And all the womenkind we can muster are a travesty of the name—sketches the Lord seems to have blotted in the making and thrown away." With tender impatience he touched a cluster of wild roses with the toe of his military boot. "Oh, why can't ye stop running to flowers and blossom girls instead! Hello! Is this an answer to prayer, or a deceiving dream?" Sure enough, among the crimson petals a girl's face laughed, sparkling back at him. "By the St. Colmcille, a young lady at me feet! Permit me to reverse the positions, miss!" Picking up the miniature, he scanned the features closely. "Young? Yes, the right age, just; still in her teens, but not too teeny! Pretty? Verdict unanimous, without leaving the jury-box; guilty of wholesale manslaughter wherever those eyes set foot! Good? As good as virgin gold! Perhaps a trifle too well pleased with herself. Here, young lady, give an account of yourself! What are you doing in my district? Are you visiting father, brother, sweetheart, or do you intend to stake a claim on some poor wretch's unprospected heart? Oh, here's a bit of writing on the back. 'For dear daddy, from Evelyn,' Evelyn. A pretty name. Sounds like Eve with a little flounce on. Daddy. I'm glad it's a mere father ye belong to. Now since ye've dropped like manna from heaven to the wilderness, will ye think it a liberty if I——" He approached the picture to his lips, then put it resolutely aside. "No! I'm not the coward to kiss a girl anyway but to her face!" In his absorption he had failed to observe a uniformed rider coming at full gallop along the trail, and he had barely time to conceal the miniature in his breast as Barney, his assistant and devoted personal follower, dismounted a few paces from him.

Instead of greeting his chief with the proper military salute, Barney pushed him arrogantly aside.

"Out av the shadow av your supariors, ye hulking son av a tiligraph pole!"

"Back into your own skin, you jackass, you!" Scarlett returned the push with interest.

Recognizing the other through his disguise, "Bejabers," exclaimed Barney, "'tis Himself!"

"You're late in coming up to time," remarked Scarlett, absently, his thoughts still on the portrait.

"Sure, sorr, an' 'twas the word from yourself I've been delaying for! Ivery moment av the last four-an'-twenty hours I've slept at attintion with me boots on and nary a wink on me! As me own flesh is livin' witness, I've never moved me hindquarters from the saddle!"

"I wish you'd learn to keep your headquarters in the saddle," returned Scarlett. "Didn't I instruct ye if ye hadn't heard from me by the day appointed to start the day before?"

Barney scratched a puzzled head. He could interpret his own Irish bulls readily enough, defending them, if needful, with his fists to a jury of his peers, but those of his chief often passed him. Tactfully, he changed the conversation. "The mail arrived, Sergeant, and was distributed impartially. Only this remains unclaimed; a registhry package, with duty to pay on it."

Sergeant Scarlett examined the address on the parcel. "From E. Durant, New York City, to Matthew Durant, owner of the Rainbow Mine—— Where under the shining heavens is the Rainbow Mine, Barney?" he broke off to ask.

"In the clouds, for aught I know, sorr. I searched the books, but in all the disthrict there's not even a claim recorded by the name, far less a mine."

"H'm! Well, the man, if not his mine, may be sojourning in our bally. Step inside the tent, Barney, and when the parson pauses for breath, whisper to him to inquire for one Matthew Durant!"

When Barney had gone on his errand, Scarlett performed the official act of unfastening the dainty package to appraise its contents. "White neckties, doubtless," he soliloquized. "That is what folk on the outside are by way of sending their kin to pull them through a Klondike winter. No, but almost as bad: an embroidered cigar-case, with jeweled clasp. Now I'm wondering if the fellow it's intended for can always muster up a pipeful of tobacco! Well, Barney, what success?"

"Just at this present, sorr, the howly man has got his teeth well into the Evil Wan, but he tipped me the wink he'd find our man the moment he darst let go. Oh, by the way—I hate to decompose ye, Sergeant—but here's a letther for yourself!"

"A letter for me, is it? Now, who the mischief would be writing to me?"

"The mischief it is, indade, sorr! 'Tis a lawyer!"

"A lawyer!" Scarlett scrutinized the name of the Dublin firm on the missive Barney handed him. "Now I'd give something to know what that means! I've always lived within the law, and without a lawyer!"

"Sure, that's your offence, Sergeant. Depind on ut, that's phwat they're afther charging ye for!"

"'Tis their inflated cheek, then!" Resentfully, Scarlett tore open the envelope. "If 'tis a bill they're sending me they can go to the divvle!"

"Faith, sorr, that's exactly where they'll have ye! That's phwat they're afther counting on!"

Barney watched his chief with affectionate solicitude while the latter read, and, crossing himself, began a prayer in which pious invocations mingled strangely with unflattering estimates of legal lights. "Howly Mary, full av grace—— The dirthy blackguards, I wish I'd lost the letther for the lad! Blessed art thou among—— Bad cess to yez, ye black limbs av an onreputable body, if 'tis only nearer ye were, or meself less far away, rest aisy 'tis outwitted ye'd be intoirely, if there's anny diplomacy in the fists av this Mick at all. Name av the Father, Son an' Howly——"

"Phew!" At last Scarlett broke through the stupor with which the perusal of his letter seemed to have encompassed him. "Is it I standing here in my five senses, or the fool of a deceiving dream? Barney, man, listen to this and pronounce on it. 'By the demise of your uncle'—that's my uncle, you understand?"

"Sure, sorr, your uncle is my uncle; and many's the accommodation we've had off him, thanks be!"

"Oh, this doesn't refer to that impartial relative of all impoverished humanity! This is, or was, the man who prevented my father from being the eldest son and only child of his parents! By his demise——"

"Precisely, sorr. And which av his qualifications may his demise be?"

"The final one. Demise means death. Oh, not the commonplace, every-day occurrence as we up here experience it; it is applied to those who have something of value besides life to leave behind."

"Faith, then, sergeant, it's ourselves will be immune."

"That's what I'm doubting. Five minutes since, I was nobody of nowhere. Now I suddenly find myself gazetted Sir Gerald Scarlett of Dunshinannon, owner of a picturesque, if ruined, castle; three acres that might be profitable under cultivation, and a cow!"

Barney shook his head. "A grand dream, Sergeant. May the blissed saints soften the awakening to ye," he added, with commiseration.

"But, man—here, look at this, will ye?" Before his astonished eyes Scarlett held a draft for a substantial sum. "A luck-slice from the rent-roll. Oh, that proves it no dream, since money talks, but never in its sleep!"

Barney removed his regimental hat. "Hurrah for Sir Gerald, the castle, including the ruins, the acres, and ivery blissed pertaty, past, present and to come, adorning them!"

"And the cow, God bless her!" Scarlett also bared his head.

"Amen!" Barney supplemented, fervently. "I'm wid ye, sorr, in prosperity, as in adversity! How soon do we quit the service, me lordship?"

"Not till we've finished out our term, you lazy vagabond! Meanwhile, sink the title. I travel on my soldiership, and you're in the same boat!"

"Amen! if it has to be," acquiesced Barney, with philosophic resignation, saluting meekly. "And phwat's the next orders, me lord—Sergeant, I should say?"

"For the present you can take charge and administer the law, unless anything demanding a judicial mind comes up, while I wander on incog., and do a little prospecting to identify the toughs and crooks that give this the name of the blackest district in all the great Northwest! I've begun rather well; I've just rounded up Bully Nick and his sharp-shooting gang!"

"Ye have?" Barney's jaw dropped with amazement. "Single-handed?"

"Aye; but forewarned is four-armed, you know!"

"Even so. Mother of Grace——"

"Tut, tut, man; that's but a flea bite in the ocean, as one of our Irish philosophers remarked. There's a regularly organized band of thieves—aye, who don't stick at murder, either—that hold up stages, terrorize the whole community, and play the dickens generally. The scum of all nationalities, their headquarters are across the boundary in Uncle Sam's domain, while their field of operations is the whole Northwest. The thing is to identify them, catch them redhanded in our precincts."

"A Herculaneum task, me lordship—Sergeant, I should say—and more, since that gintleman had only twelve impossibilities to conquer!"

"Och, Hercules! I'd sooner any day be a whole man than just half a god like Hercules! Any able-bodied son of Erin should be able to match Hercules, except in the snake-strangling trick, since divvle an example did Saint Patrick leave us to practice on."

"Thrue," assented Barney. "Many's the dhrink I've laid on it that the only snakes an Irishman is capable of behoulding is all in his own eye."

"Don't ye be looking for them that way on duty. Keep your vision for two-legged crawlers. There was a fellow here, just now, who, if faces are incriminating testimony, stands twenty times convicted in the dark, or I'm a duffer in face-palmistry."

"Why not begin with the rope's end, Sergeant?"

"No, no, man! We must even make haste slowly, as some old Roman of an Irishman remarked. I'll just wander on, as if looking for a job, and if any one inquires about me, give me what character ye please!"

"Faith, sorr, since fair play demands reciprocity on both sides, I'll damn ye for a blockhead!"

"Go ahead," laughed Scarlett. Breaking off, he inquired: "Now who's this chee-charka coming up the trail?"