Zane Grey (8 page)

"If it weren't for that threatening fort one could imagine this little
hamlet, nestling under the great bluff, as quiet and secure as it is
beautiful," said Helen. "But that charred stockade fence with its
scarred bastions and these lowering port-holes, always keep me alive
to the reality."

"It wasn't very quiet when Girty was here," Mabel replied
thoughtfully.

"Were you in the fort then?" asked Helen breathlessly.

"Oh, yes, I cooled the rifles for the men," replied Mabel calmly.

"Tell me all about it."

Helen listened again to a story she had heard many times; but told by
new lips it always gained in vivid interest. She never tired of
hearing how the notorious renegade, Girty, rode around the fort on his
white horse, giving the defenders an hour in which to surrender; she
learned again of the attack, when the British soldiers remained silent
on an adjoining hillside, while the Indians yelled exultantly and ran
about in fiendish glee, when Wetzel began the battle by shooting an
Indian chieftain who had ventured within range of his ever fatal
rifle. And when it came to the heroic deeds of that memorable siege
Helen could not contain her enthusiasm. She shed tears over little
Harry Bennet's death at the south bastion where, though riddled with
bullets, he stuck to his post until relieved. Clark's race, across the
roof of the fort to extinguish a burning arrow, she applauded with
clapping hands. Her great eyes glowed and burned, but she was silent,
when hearing how Wetzel ran alone to a break in the stockade, and
there, with an ax, the terrible borderman held at bay the whole
infuriated Indian mob until the breach was closed. Lastly Betty Zane's
never-to-be-forgotten run with the powder to the relief of the
garrison and the saving of the fort was something not to cry over or
applaud; but to dream of and to glorify.

"Down that slope from Colonel Zane's cabin is where Betty ran with the
powder," said Mabel, pointing.

"Did you see her?" asked Helen.

"Yes, I looked out of a port-hole. The Indians stopped firing at the
fort in their eagerness to shoot Betty. Oh, the banging of guns and
yelling of savages was one fearful, dreadful roar! Through all that
hail of bullets Betty ran swift as the wind."

"I almost wish Girty would come again," said Helen.

"Don't; he might."

"How long has Betty's husband, Mr. Clarke, been dead?" inquired Helen.

"I don't remember exactly. He didn't live long after the siege. Some
say he inhaled the flames while fighting fire inside the stockade."

"How sad!"

"Yes, it was. It nearly killed Betty. But we border girls do not give
up easily; we must not," replied Mabel, an unquenchable spirit showing
through the sadness of her eyes.

Merry voices interrupted them, and they turned to see Betty and Nell
entering the gate. With Nell's bright chatter and Betty's wit, the
conversation became indeed vivacious, running from gossip to gowns,
and then to that old and ever new theme, love. Shortly afterward the
colonel entered the gate, with swinging step and genial smile.

"Well, now, if here aren't four handsome lasses," he said with an
admiring glance.

"Eb, I believe if you were single any girl might well suspect you of
being a flirt," said Betty.

"No girl ever did. I tell you I was a lady-killer in my day," replied
Colonel Zane, straightening his fine form. He was indeed handsome,
with his stalwart frame, dark, bronzed face and rugged, manly bearing.

"Bess said you were; but that it didn't last long after you saw her,"
cried Betty, mischief gleaming in her dark eye.

"Well, that's so," replied the colonel, looking a trifle crest-fallen;
"but you know every dog has his day." Then advancing to the porch, he
looked at Mabel with a more serious gaze as he asked, "How are
you to-day?"

"Thank you, Colonel Zane, I am getting quite strong."

"Look up the valley. There's a raft coming down the river," said he
softly.

Far up the broad Ohio a square patch showed dark against the green
water.

Colonel Zane saw Mabel start, and a dark red flush came over her pale
face. For an instant she gazed with an expression of appeal, almost
fear. He knew the reason. Alex Bennet was on that raft.

"I came over to ask if I can be of any service?"

"Tell him," she answered simply.

"I say, Betts," Colonel Zane cried, "has Helen's cousin cast any more
such sheep eyes at you?"

"Oh, Eb, what nonsense!" exclaimed Betty, blushing furiously.

"Well, if he didn't look sweet at you I'm an old fool."

"You're one anyway, and you're horrid," said Betty, tears of anger
glistening in her eyes.

Colonel Zane whistled softly as he walked down the lane. He went into
the wheelwright's shop to see about some repairs he was having made on
a wagon, and then strolled on down to the river. Two Indians were
sitting on the rude log wharf, together with several frontiersmen and
rivermen, all waiting for the raft. He conversed with the Indians, who
were friendly Chippewas, until the raft was tied up. The first person
to leap on shore was a sturdy young fellow with a shock of yellow
hair, and a warm, ruddy skin.

"Hello, Alex, did you have a good trip?" asked Colonel Zane of the
youth.

"H'are ye, Colonel Zane. Yes, first-rate trip," replied young Bennet.
"Say, I've a word for you. Come aside," and drawing Colonel Zane out
of earshot of the others, he continued, "I heard this by accident, not
that I didn't spy a bit when I got interested, for I did; but the way
it came about was all chance. Briefly, there's a man, evidently an
Englishman, at Fort Pitt whom I overheard say he was out on the border
after a Sheppard girl. I happened to hear from one of Brandt's men,
who rode into Pitt just before we left, that you had new friends here
by that name. This fellow was a handsome chap, no common sort, but
lordly, dissipated and reckless as the devil. He had a servant
traveling with him, a sailor, by his gab, who was about the toughest
customer I've met in many a day. He cut a fellow in bad shape at Pitt.
These two will be on the next boat, due here in a day or so, according
to river and weather conditions, an' I thought, considerin' how
unusual the thing was, I'd better tell ye."

"Well, well," said Colonel Zane reflectively. He recalled Sheppard's
talk about an Englishman. "Alex, you did well to tell me. Was the man
drunk when he said he came west after a woman?"

"Sure he was," replied Alex. "But not when he spoke the name. Ye see I
got suspicious, an' asked about him. It's this way: Jake Wentz, the
trader, told me the fellow asked for the Sheppards when he got off the
wagon-train. When I first seen him he was drunk, and I heard Jeff Lynn
say as how the border was a bad place to come after a woman. That's
what made me prick up my ears. Then the Englishman said: 'It is, eh?
By God! I'd go to hell after a woman I wanted.' An' Colonel, he
looked it, too."

Colonel Zane remained thoughtful while Alex made up a bundle and
forced the haft of an ax under the string; but as the young man
started away the colonel suddenly remembered his errand down to
the wharf.

"Alex, come back here," he said, and wondered if the lad had good
stuff in him. The boatman's face was plain, but not evil, and a close
scrutiny of it rather prepossessed the colonel.

"Alex, I've some bad news for you," and then bluntly, with his keen
gaze fastened on the young man's face, he told of old Lane's murder,
of Mabel's abduction, and of her rescue by Wetzel.

Alex began to curse and swear vengeance.

"Stow all that," said the colonel sharply. "Wetzel followed four
Indians who had Mabel and some stolen horses. The redskins quarreled
over the girl, and two took the horses, leaving Mabel to the others.
Wetzel went after these last, tomahawked them, and brought Mabel home.
She was in a bad way, but is now getting over the shock."

"Say, what'd we do here without Wetzel?" Alex said huskily, unmindful
of the tears that streamed from his eyes and ran over his brown
cheeks. "Poor old Jake! Poor Mabel! Damn me! it's my fault. If I'd 'a
done right an' married her as I should, as I wanted to, she wouldn't
have had to suffer. But I'll marry her yet, if she'll have me. It was
only because I had no farm, no stock, an' only that little cabin as is
full now, that I waited."

"Alex, you know me," said Colonel Zane in kindly tones. "Look there,
down the clearing half a mile. See that green strip of land along the
river, with the big chestnut in the middle and a cabin beyond. There's
as fine farming land as can be found on the border, eighty acres, well
watered. The day you marry Mabel that farm is yours."

Alex grew red, stammered, and vainly tried to express his gratitude.

"Come along, the sooner you tell Mabel the better," said the colonel
with glowing face. He was a good matchmaker. He derived more pleasure
from a little charity bestowed upon a deserving person, than from a
season's crops.

When they arrived at the Sheppard house the girls were still on the
porch. Mabel rose when she saw Alex, standing white and still. He,
poor fellow, was embarrassed by the others, who regarded him with
steady eyes.

Colonel Zane pushed Alex up on the porch, and said in a low voice:
"Mabel, I've just arranged something you're to give Alex. It's a nice
little farm, and it'll be a wedding present."

Mabel looked in a bewildered manner from Colonel Zane's happy face to
the girls, and then at the red, joyous features of her lover. Only
then did she understand, and uttering a strange little cry, put her
trembling hands to her bosom as she swayed to and fro.

But she did not fall, for Alex, quick at the last, leaped forward and
caught her in his arms.

That evening Helen denied herself to Mr. Brandt and several other
callers. She sat on the porch with her father while he smoked
his pipe.

"Where's Will?" she asked.

"Gone after snipe, so he said," replied her father.

"Snipe? How funny! Imagine Will hunting! He's surely catching the wild
fever Colonel Zane told us about."

"He surely is."

Then came a time of silence. Mr. Sheppard, accustomed to Helen's
gladsome spirit and propensity to gay chatter, noted how quiet she
was, and wondered.

"Why are you so still?"

"I'm a little homesick," Helen replied reluctantly.

"No? Well, I declare! This is a glorious country; but not for such as
you, dear, who love music and gaiety. I often fear you'll not be happy
here, and then I long for the old home, which reminds me of
your mother."

"Dearest, forget what I said," cried Helen earnestly. "I'm only a
little blue to-day; perhaps not at all homesick."

"Indeed, you always seemed happy."

"Father, I am happy. It's only—only a girl's foolish sentiment."

"I've got something to tell you, Helen, and it has bothered me since
Colonel Zane spoke of it to-night. Mordaunt is coming to Fort Henry."

"Mordaunt? Oh, impossible! Who said so? How did you learn?"

"I fear 'tis true, my dear. Colonel Zane told me he had heard of an
Englishman at Fort Pitt who asked after us. Moreover, the fellow
answers the description of Mordaunt. I am afraid it is he, and come
after you."

"Suppose he has—who cares? We owe him nothing. He cannot hurt us."

"But, Helen, he's a desperate man. Aren't you afraid of him?"

"Not I," cried Helen, laughing in scorn. "He'd better have a care. He
can't run things with a high hand out here on the border. I told him I
would have none of him, and that ended it."

"I'm much relieved. I didn't want to tell you; but it seemed
necessary. Well, child, good night, I'll go to bed."

Long after Mr. Sheppard had retired Helen sat thinking. Memories of
the past, and of the unwelcome suitor, Mordaunt, thronged upon her
thick and fast. She could see him now with his pale, handsome face,
and distinguished bearing. She had liked him, as she had other men,
until he involved her father, with himself, in financial ruin, and had
made his attention to her unpleasantly persistent. Then he had
followed the fall of fortune with wild dissipation, and became a
gambler and a drunkard. But he did not desist in his mad wooing. He
became like her shadow, and life grew to be unendurable, until her
father planned to emigrate west, when she hailed the news with joy.
And now Mordaunt had tracked her to her new home. She was sick with
disgust. Then her spirit, always strong, and now freer for this new,
wild life of the frontier, rose within her, and she dismissed all
thoughts of this man and his passion.

The old life was dead and buried. She was going to be happy here. As
for the present, it was enough to think of the little border village,
now her home; of her girl friends; of the quiet borderman: and, for
the moment, that the twilight was somber and beautiful.

High up on the wooded bluff rising so gloomily over the village, she
saw among the trees something silver-bright. She watched it rise
slowly from behind the trees, now hidden, now white through rifts in
the foliage, until it soared lovely and grand above the black horizon.
The ebony shadows of night seemed to lift, as might a sable mantle
moved by invisible hands. But dark shadows, safe from the moon-rays,
lay under the trees, and a pale, misty vapor hung below the brow of
the bluff.

Mysterious as had grown the night before darkness yielded to the moon,
this pale, white light flooding the still valley, was even more soft
and strange. To one of Helen's temperament no thought was needed; to
see was enough. Yet her mind was active. She felt with haunting power
the beauty of all before her; in fancy transporting herself far to
those silver-tipped clouds, and peopling the dells and shady nooks
under the hills with spirits and fairies, maidens and valiant knights.
To her the day was as a far-off dream. The great watch stars grew wan
before the radiant moon; it reigned alone. The immensity of the world
with its glimmering rivers, pensive valleys and deep, gloomy forests
lay revealed under the glory of the clear light.