_Witch Girl_
In a few minutes, Cindy thought excitedly, she would "kill" herself. Her
eyes strayed from the tailboard of the wagon on which she stood, over
the scene around her. By day, with wagons and tents stretching as far as
one could see in either direction along the Oklahoma border, all was
bustle and excitement.
Now, with twilight just shading into darkness, it was delightfully
different. She could see only the nearest camps, and though most of the
wagon covers and tents too were stained with use, the night took away
every sign of ugliness, and everything was again beautiful. Here and
there, both near and far, the embers of cooking fires glowed like bright
red eyes.
[Illustration]
The kerosene lantern hanging over the tailboard cast its glow for no
great distance. She could see clearly only the nearest rows of people
who had come to watch this amateur show, the talent for which had been
recruited from the campers themselves. Everything else was in shadow.
Cindy took a deep breath and announced:
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I, the Great Cindy Simpson, will thrill
you with feats of magic and leaderdemain! I will prove to you that the
hand is quicker than the eye! Watch closely!"
She saw her brother grinning up at her and winked at him. Alec was two
and a half years older than she. But, she thought proudly, even though
he was only fourteen, still he was taller than some of the grown men
present. Of course, in this crowd of people, all waiting to join the run
into Oklahoma to claim land, there were short men as well as tall.
Cindy tried and failed to find her mother in the crowd. Thinking of her
mother, she also thought of Mindy and was suddenly and terribly
lonesome. Mindy, Cindy's identical twin sister, had suffered a winter
fever. It was thought that she could not stand the long wagon trip from
Missouri into Kansas, and down through the Cherokee Outlet, or Strip, as
it was often called, on the north to the border of the lands that were
being opened for settlement. So Mindy had been left in Missouri with
Grandpa and Grandma Simpson. But she was coming by train, and Cindy
hoped it would be soon. This very afternoon her father had gone to the
nearest railroad station, which was two miles away, to see if there was
a message.
Giving herself back to the spirit of her act, Cindy took one of her
mother's silk handkerchiefs from the little table of articles beside her
and waved it gracefully. She continued:
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, keep your eyes on the handkerchief! You can
see for yourselves that there is nothing unusual about it! It is just an
ordinary handkerchief, until I fold it in my hand!"
Cindy folded it carefully in her hand, clamped her small fist about it,
and waved her arm aloft. When she opened her fist the handkerchief was
gone. A small wire hook on the end of an elastic band attached to the
armhole of her camisole had drawn the handkerchief only part way up her
sleeve. Still, it was out of the crowd's sight. Cindy tossed the long
black braids that hung over her shoulders and pretended shocked
surprise.
"Oh! It's gone!" she exclaimed. "One of my mother's best, too! Now what
shall I do?"
She waved her arm again, bending it as she did so, to let the stretched
elastic go slack. At the same time she pulled a silk thread, one end of
which had been tied to the handkerchief before she picked it up. The
other end was looped, and she'd slipped the loop over her finger. As
magically as it had disappeared, the handkerchief was there again. Cindy
cried happily, "Ah! It's back! See what magic can do?"
She returned the handkerchief to the table, picked up a short wand, and
showed it to her audience. "The witches' wand!" she said darkly. "But
it has no power over the Great Cindy! Listen!"
She tapped the wand on the table, and the sound of the thumping reached
the farthest edges of the crowd.
"As you can see," she announced, "it's very solid! Now I'll roll it in
this magic paper!"
She rolled it in a piece of ordinary paper and held it up in full view
of the crowd. Then she tore wand and paper into tiny bits, threw them
into the air, and let them float down among her audience. Nobody except
Cindy and Alec knew that the wand itself was paper, with a small chunk
of lead, to make the thumping sound, in one end.
Cindy did half a dozen more tricks and then picked up the only real
magic prop she had. It was a wicked-looking knife given to her by a
farmhand whom she had known on the Missouri farm where her father had
worked before coming to seek his own land in Oklahoma. The same farmhand
had also taught her the rest of her magic.
"Before I perform this last and greatest feat," she said, "I wish to
prove to all of you that this is a real knife. One of you must examine
it. You!"
Her eyes fell on a short, swarthy man who wore a red handkerchief
around his neck and another bound over his hair. Cindy hesitated. Did
the man have eyes like a cat? Or did she only think so? She was not
sure, and she stepped forward to press the knife into his hand.
"Take it!" she urged.
He took it, but he seemed to do so unwillingly, and his eyes remained on
Cindy.
"Cut something, please," she requested.
He slid the knife along the wagon's tailboard, and a long sliver of wood
curled up. Cindy smiled sweetly.
"Do you want to try it on something else?" she asked.
The man merely stared at her. When Cindy stretched out her hand, he put
the knife in it and backed hastily away. Cindy thanked him and went on
with her show.
"You have seen for yourselves, ladies and gentlemen, that this knife is
razor-sharp! Watch closely!"
Before the crowd could guess what was going to happen, they saw Cindy
seemingly plunge the cruel blade into her heart. Blood spurted, and just
before she fell Cindy heard a woman scream. A moment later Cindy got up,
bowed, and to the mad applause of everyone except the man with cat's
eyes, leaped lightly from the tailboard.
Still grinning, Alec joined her. "Gee! You were great, sis!" he
exclaimed.
"Was I really?"
"Best ever. And you sure bowled over one member of your audience."
"The woman who screamed?"
[Illustration]
"No, the man who tested your knife, the one with a bandana over his hair
and another around his neck. I was standing right next to him, and he
said, 'Weetch girl! Weetch girl!' Did you know you're a witch girl?"
"Oh, no!" Cindy groaned.
"Oh, yes," Alec teased. "Wonder what he'd say if he knew that when you
press the handle of that knife just right, the blade slides back into
it and a squirt of catsup jumps out?"
"Alec," Cindy was thoughtful, "did you notice anything strange about
that man?"
"He looked like an Indian."
"Do you remember what old Mrs. Bevers said when we left Missouri?"
"Sure. She said, 'Luck will follow you if you beware a man with cat's
eyes.'"
"Alec, that man had cat's eyes!"
"Aw now, Cindy!"
"He did," Cindy said firmly.
"Now, sis, don't go believing your own magic!"
"Have it your own way, but he still had cat's eyes."
"Then I'll sic a dog onto him," Alec laughed. "Come on, sis. There's
somebody I want you to meet."
He led her away from the lighted tailboard back into the shadows. Cindy
saw her father, mother, and Pete Brent, the man with whom her father
would make the ride into Oklahoma as soon as the border was opened. But
there was also someone else.
Too surprised to move for a second, Cindy stopped in her tracks. Then
she raced forward to fling herself into the arms of a slender, lovely
girl whose soft, dark eyes reflected only delight and who, like Cindy,
wore a gingham dress that covered her from her neck to the tops of her
shoes.
"Mindy!"
They hugged each other, and still holding hands, stepped apart. "When
did you come?" Cindy asked happily.
"Daddy met the train to see if there was a message from me. He found me
instead."
"Oh! It's so nice to have you back!"
"Sit down, children," Mrs. Simpson said quietly. "If you become too
excited neither one of you will sleep tonight. Oh dear, Cindamine!
Catsup all over your dress again!"
"I'll wash it, Mother," Cindy said cheerfully.
"I know, dear," her mother said, "but you're eleven now, going on
twelve. Isn't it time you were becoming a lady, like Miranda?"
"Sure, Mom," Cindy said agreeably.
She sat in the trampled grass beside her sister, and their arms stole
about each other. Pete Brent, a tall, lean, dark-haired man with
friendly eyes and a ready smile, chuckled.
"I declare! If 'twasn't for that catsup, I couldn't tell 'em apart!"
"Neither can anyone else," their father said.
"Not unless they watched them," Mrs. Simpson spoke up. "Miranda's always
the lady, and Cindamine always the tomboy. She's forever in some
scrape."
"Cindy will be a lady some day," Mindy defended her twin.
"Sure I will, Mom," Cindy agreed. "How did I do?"
"Except that you said 'leaderdemain' rather than 'legerdemain,' you did
very well," Mrs. Simpson said.
"I'll remember next time," Cindy promised.
Alec chuckled. "Cindy's a 'witch girl' now," he remarked.
"Merciful heavens!" their mother gasped.
"Oh, it isn't that bad. Her magic just scared the daylights out of some
man. I stood right next to him, and he was shaking in his boots."
"Who was it?" Pete Brent asked curiously.
Alec searched the crowd, which was now watching a juggler who had taken
Cindy's place on the tailboard. He saw the short, swarthy man and
pointed him out. Pete Brent shook his head soberly.
"No wonder he was scared."
"Who is he?" Mr. Simpson asked.
"Tom LaMott. He's part Indian, part Spanish, and part nobody knows what.
He believes in devils, and it's easy to understand why Cindy's magic
tricks seemed like deviltry to him."
"Is he bad?" Mindy asked.
"I myself know of nothing very bad he's ever done, but according to the
stories going around, he isn't good," Pete replied.
Mrs. Simpson said doubtfully, "Sometimes I wish we'd stayed in
Missouri."
"This is no better and no worse than Missouri, Mrs. Simpson," Pete said
respectfully.
"You said yourself that that man's a heathen."
"You will," Pete pointed out, "find them in Missouri, New York, or any
other place you go."
"Say what you please, Pete, this is different from Missouri."
"Only because of the crowd gathered here. But ninety-five per cent of
them are honest, hard-working, God-fearing people. They don't want a
thing except a chance at some of the last good free land left in the
country under control of the United States."
"How about the other five per cent?" Mrs. Simpson asked.
"Well," Pete said reluctantly, "I wouldn't want to cross that border
without a gun."
"If you know you'll need a gun, then you must know of dangers," said
Mrs. Simpson.
"Now, Ann," big Jed Simpson said easily, "there isn't a thing to worry
about."
"I hope not."
"We have good stock, good equipment, and, thank God, we're all healthy
and together again. There is no reason why we don't have a good chance,"
Mr. Simpson told her. "Looks as though the show's over," he added.
[Illustration]
They drifted back toward their wagons, which were side by side. Pete's
big draft horses and his four trim, fast ponies, tied to a picket line,
shuffled about and munched fodder. A little distance away, the Simpsons'
four wagon mules were in a rope corral. But Sunshine, the swift
palomino mare with the white mane and tail, the horse Mr. Simpson would
ride in the Land Run, was staked on her own picket rope away from the
mules, and she was eating oats. Sunshine would have to travel very fast
and far.
"Coming, twins?" their mother called.
"Can't we stay and talk with Mr. Brent for a little while?" Cindy asked.
"Don't get in the way."
"In the way!" Pete snorted. "My two sweet-hearts in the way! Why, Mrs.
Simpson!"
"I'd like to stay too," Alec said.
"Good!" said Pete.