BONNIE BELLE OF POCKET CITY.
Of all strange camps and communities ever seen upon the frontier
that of Pocket City, in Yellow Dust Valley, was the strangest. It
was named from the fact that it fitted into the valley among the
mountains like a pocket in a dress, and also on account, perhaps, of
there having been found just there a number of rich pockets of gold.
Yellow Dust Valley was a home of miners, a couple or more thousands
being scattered along the sides of the mountains, and Pocket City,
situated near the upper end, was the headquarters of all.
There the stage-line had its ending, and there was a semi-monthly
coach from Pocket City to the main stem of the Overland Trail. There
was a post-office, a hotel known as the Frying Pan, a saloon and
gambling-resort called the Devil’s Den, several stores, a combination
blacksmith and wagon-shop, with smaller drinking and betting-places,
and several boarding-houses.
The camps were the resort of a very wild element of humanity,
varying from honest men to horse-thieves, road-agents, gold-grabbers,
and desperadoes of the very worst type.
The most prominent person in Pocket City was a woman, or, rather,
a young girl, because she could scarcely be over nineteen. She had
arrived in Pocket City one day in a coach which had been held up, and
had defended herself so well that she had shot one of the robbers
dead, and enabled the driver to get away.
The “big man” of Pocket was in that coach, returning from the East.
He had received a mortal wound, and was so tenderly cared for by the
young girl that, upon arriving at his home, he had told her frankly
that he would make her his heiress, as he had no one to claim his
riches.
And so it was that Bonnie Belle, as he had called her, after a
daughter who had died years before, became the postmistress,
stage-agent, landlady of the Frying Pan Hotel and of the Devil’s Den.
What had brought the young girl to Pocket City no one knew; but
Landlord Lazarus had not been in his grave a day before the rough
element discovered that the mistress of the Frying Pan intended to be
the _master_ there.
She made the hotel a success, would have no cheating in her
gambling-saloon, sold only the best of liquors, stood no nonsense
from any of the men, and was treated with marked respect.
She was a beautiful creature, too, with a mass of red-gold hair,
large, lustrous black eyes, full of a dreamy sadness, perfect
features, and a form of exquisite grace.
She was wont to dress neatly about the hotel and in attending to her
other duties there, and when out for a ride on one of her spirited
horses wore a buckskin habit and gold-embroidered sombrero.
Kind to all, with charity for men’s failings and sins, and generosity
toward all in suffering and distress, Bonnie Belle had won the hearts
of all the miners, as well as their admiration and respect.
Not the most hardened villain in the camp would have dared say aught
to cast a slur upon Bonnie Belle if he valued his life, for he would
have been seized and made an example of very quickly.
Many a poor, sick miner had been sent to his home by her, and she was
ever ready to lend aid and do an act of mercy. If a man was hungry
and had no money, he got food at the Frying Pan freely. If a miner
was sick, some delicacy was sent him from Bonnie Belle’s table.
It was not a wonder, then, that some grateful miner had called her
the Beautiful Samaritan.
What had brought her to the wild West, unless to do good, no one
could understand, and men wondered and marveled over and over the
strange fact of such a refined being seeking a home amid such rude
surroundings.
One wing of the Frying Pan Bonnie Belle had fitted up for her
especial use.
It was surrounded by a high stockade wall, taking in an acre of land,
where there was a spring, rustic arbor, hammock, and flowers.
There was no way of entering this garden-spot save through her
rooms in the hotel, in the wing referred to, and which were five in
number--an office, sitting-room, dining-room, and two bedrooms.
There was a piazza running around the wing, and she certainly was
most comfortable in her border home.
She had Chinese servants, and kept the place as neat as possible,
while she kept hunters out to supply the table with game, had a large
chicken-yard and garden, and, having no bar connected with the hotel,
managed to keep an orderly home for her boarders, who were numerous.
Bonnie Belle was in the gambling-saloon of Devil’s Den. It was in
full blast, for the bar across one end was crowded with drinkers,
the faro-bank, roulette-table, rouge-et-noir, and games of dice were
going, with plenty of players about them, and a score or more tables
had men at them gambling with cards.
There was a dense atmosphere of smoke in the vast saloon, in which
mingled the clinking of glasses, rattling of dice, shuffling of
cards, and hum of conversation, in which there was some sudden burst
of profanity now and then.
Quietly Bonnie Belle entered the saloon from a side door, and, as
soon as she was discovered, a hush like a wave swept over the crowd
of three or four hundred men present.
No better mark of respect could have been shown her than this, and
the man that uttered an oath while she was present would have found
himself covered by a score of “guns” instantly, until he made ample
apology for his offense.
Speaking pleasantly here and there, Bonnie Belle made the tour of the
gaming-tables, all of which made a commission upon all money put up,
but the dealers were not allowed to bet against the players, and any
trickery quickly ended a man’s position of trust in the Devil’s Den,
for, as a miner expressed it:
“Bonnie Belle are squar’ all round.”
Suddenly, as she made the rounds of the tables, she came face to
face with a man who had just entered the Devil’s Den. He was dressed
in miner’s garb, and was a commanding-looking man, with a handsome,
full-bearded face and wearing his hair long.
His look was that of a man reared in refinement, and his manners, as
he spoke to various of those whom he passed, were courtly and gentle.
“Ah, Deadshot Dean, I am glad to see you. Do you play to-night?” and
Bonnie Belle held forth her hand, which the man grasped warmly, while
he doffed his hat as he replied:
“No, Bonnie Belle, I merely looked in for a moment. Is it too late to
get some supper at the Frying Pan?”
“No, I will go over at once and order it,” and she passed on, leaving
the saloon by the rear door by which she had entered, and which led
along a stockade lane at the base of the mountain range to her own
quarters.
The man addressed as Deadshot Dean quietly made the tour of the room,
and it was evident from the greetings bestowed upon him and the
attention he attracted that he was no ordinary personage.
He had come to the mines some years before to work a claim, for which
he brought papers giving him all right and title thereto, and he had
met with varying success ever since.
He was known as the Miner of Hangman’s Gulch, as his cabin was
isolated and near a spot where all the hangings in Yellow Dust Valley
took place.
No other cabin was within a mile and a half of him, for the
superstitious miners would not seek claims within a mile-limit of
Hangman’s Gulch, which was regarded by many as haunted, and was
looked upon by all as a place accursed.
His home was situated upon a spur around the base of which wound a
trail, and his claim was an eighth of a mile distant from his cabin.
Generous to all, peaceful in his nature, but a dangerous man to
arouse, he had won his name of Deadshot Dean by defending himself
against half a dozen desperadoes on one occasion, and since then had
shown himself to be a man of courage and determination which no peril
could daunt.
Leaving the Devil’s Den, the miner had gone directly to the Frying
Pan, and Bonnie Belle met him at the office, and said:
“I have ordered your supper brought to my dining-room, Deadshot Dean,
so come in here, for I know that you have news for me.”
“I have, indeed, Bonnie Belle,” was the answer.
“When did you get back?”
“To-night. I came by my cabin, but would not stop to get supper, for
I was anxious to see you.”
“You went to the fort?”
“I did, but following the trail of that map, found in the room of the
gambler whom I was forced to kill, I met Buffalo Bill and Surgeon
Powell on the war-path, and guided them, with a party of soldiers, to
the retreat of the outlaws.”
“And captured them?”
“Yes, or killed them.”
“And Silk Lasso Sam?” quickly asked the woman, her face showing
intense anxiety as she asked the question.
“Was captured.”
“And where is he now?”
“A prisoner at Pioneer Post.”
“He will be hanged, of course?”
“Yes, for his crimes are many, as you know, and he was immediately
sentenced, before I left the fort, to die upon the gallows, along
with his men who had been captured.”
“Alas! my poor, sinful brother, he deserves the shameful fate that
he is to meet, and from which I have in vain striven hard to save
him.” The tears came into the beautiful eyes of Bonnie Belle, while
Deadshot Dean said:
“You have been a most devoted sister, Bonnie Belle, to that man, and
he has brought his fate upon his own head; but let me tell you all
that has happened since I left here to track Silk Lasso Sam and his
band to their lair.
“Bonnie Belle, for I must continue to call you by the name you are
known by to the miners, and not by that of Ruth Leigh, as I knew you
in the years gone by, when you were a little girl, I----”
“Yes, call me Bonnie Belle, Carrol Dean,” said the girl sadly.
“Then, Bonnie Belle, let me tell you that I deem the course you have
pursued to check the career of your wicked brother all that you could
do. You would have been his accomplice, though innocently, in his
crimes if you had allowed him to go on in, his desperate deeds of
lawlessness.”
“I feel that, Carrol Dean; I know it.”
“Yon know well that when your father, your brother, and yourself
lived in luxury upon your plantation home, that Arden was wild,
wayward, and dissipated.”
“Alas, yes!”
“He caused your father much suffering, was dismissed from the navy,
and had to leave the German university because he killed a fellow
student, and your father’s wealth and influence barely saved him from
the gallows for taking another life.
“Then came his rivalry of me for the love of Kathleen Clyde, who is
now my wife, and you remember how he shot me down in her presence,
fled, believing he had killed me, and forging your father’s name,
secured a large sum from the bank, and became a fugitive from
justice?”
“Alas! I know all.”
“You and your father, with sorrow in your hearts, went abroad, and
his failing health brought you back to America, to ranch-life in
California. He died there, and then you sought the reformation of
your wicked brother, seeking him in these wilds, where few other
women would have, or could have, come as you have done.
“You found him at last in Silk Lasso Sam, the leader of an outlaw
band, and failing to turn him from his wickedness, you did only
right to let him go his way and raise no hand longer to save him.
Fortunately, I was driven to this land to make money by digging in
the old claim my father had bought, for now you have a friend, a
brother, in me, and you must do as I say.”
“I will.”
“I did not seek the downfall of your brother through any feeling of
revenge, but because I had been secretly made, by Colonel Dunwoody,
of Pioneer Post, through having saved the life of Buffalo Bill,
as you remember, a Secret Service scout. I did not know until you
told me, before my going, that Silk Lasso Sam was your brother, my
old foe, and remembering you only as a girl just verging into your
teens, I did not recognize Ruth Leigh in Bonnie Belle. I tracked your
brother to his lair, and let me tell you of his latest villainy.”
“Tell me all, for I wish nothing hidden from me.”
“After visiting you here, he broke every pledge he had made you. He
went, with two followers, to the Overland Trail to Pioneer Post,
and lay in ambush until the coach came along, when he held it up.
One plucky passenger opened fire, killing one of the outlaws and
slightly wounding the chief, whose horse, also was shot under him.
In retaliation, the outlaws killed the driver and the passenger, and
then the daring idea seized upon your brother to enter the fort.”
“And he was captured?”
“Not then, for he played passenger, and was treated with the greatest
kindness by all. Being in secret communication with his men, he
arranged a plot to have a young lady there, Miss Clarice Carr, the
belle of the fort, and himself captured by the band, intending to
force from her a large ransom for her release.
“Little did she suspect his treachery, and they were captured and
taken to the secret retreat of the outlaws, one of whom pretended to
be Silk Lasso Sam, the chief. Fortunately, it was just then that I
reached the trail and found Buffalo Bill and Surgeon Powell upon it,
with the soldiers.
“The map, however, enabled me to guide them there, and to Miss Carr’s
horror, she discovered the perfidy of the man she had believed to be
a gentleman. He denied the charges against him, but I made myself
known to him, and he said no more, and was taken to the fort, tried,
and sentenced to die upon the gallows.”
“My poor, unfortunate, erring brother,” said Bonnie Belle sadly.
“Yes, it is a sad case, yet you have done far more than your duty to
save him.”
“I feel that I have sacrificed, I was going to say, my self-respect
to do so.”
“No, no, not that, for you are true as steel to yourself, even though
you are what you are in this wild land. Your brother, with whom I had
an interview, pledged his word not to make his relationship to you
known, and begged that you would forgive and forget him.”
“I will forgive, but I can never forget.”
“He bade me also to tell you that you must let me be as a brother to
you; that you must go with me to my home in the East, where you will
find a sister in my wife, and be loved by her father and my child.
“Yes, Ruth, you must go with me, for I am going East to see my
family, and then return here to work my mine, which I find is going
to pan out rich. I will take you with me by the first stage, and when
I return, if you will trust me, I will settle up your affairs in
Pocket City as best I can for you, so do not refuse.”
“Carrol Dean, I will go with you and give up this wild life,” was the
low reply.
Two weeks after the east-bound stage carried as passengers Bonnie
Belle and Deadshot Dean, the former believing that she was leaving
the wild West forever, where her brother’s life was soon to end in
shame and suffering.