AFTER FOUR YEARS.
Despite a really warm and hospitable heart, it was not pleasant for
Mercy Smith to find that her submissive husband had taken upon himself
to keep open house in this fashion for all who chose to call; and, as
she often expressed it, the settler's wife "hated an Indian on sight."
Upon her unexpected entrance, there had ensued a brief silence; then
the two tongues which were accustomed to wag so nimbly took up their
familiar task and a battle of words followed. Its climax came rather
suddenly, and was not anticipated by the housewife who declared with
great decision:
"I say the children may stay for a spell, till we can find a way to
dispose of 'em. The boy's big enough to earn his keep, if he ain't too
lazy. Male creatur's mostly are. An' the girl's no great harm as I
see, 'nless she's too pretty to be wholesome. But that red-face goes,
or I do. There ain't no room in this cabin for me an' a squaw to one
time. You can take your druther. She goes or I do"; and she glanced
with animosity toward Wahneenah, who, when hearing the fresh voice
added to the other three, had come promptly upon Mercy's return to
take her stand just within the entrance. There she had remained ever
since, silent, watchful, and quite as full of distrust concerning
Mercy as Mercy could possibly have been toward herself.
"Well," said Abel, slowly, and there was a new note in his voice which
aroused and riveted his wife's attention. "Well--you hear me. I don't
often claim to be boss, but when I do I mean it. Them children can
stay here just as long as they will. For all their lives, an' I'll be
glad of it. The Lord has denied us any little shavers of our own, an'
maybe just because in His providence He was plannin' to send them two
orphans here for us to tend. As for the squaw, she's proved her soul's
white, if her skin is red, an' she stays or goes, just as she
elects--ary one. That's all. Now, you'd better see about fixing 'em a
place to sleep."
Because she was too astonished to do otherwise, Mercy complied. And
Wahneenah wisely relieved her unwilling hostess of any trouble
concerning herself. She followed Abel to the barn, to attend him upon
his belated "chores," and to beg the use of some coarse blankets which
she had found stored there. Until she could secure properly dressed
skins or bark, these would serve her purpose well enough for the
little tepee she meant to pitch close to the house which sheltered her
children.
"For I must leave them under her roof while the winter lasts. They are
not of my race, and cannot endure the cold. But I will work just so
much as will pay for their keep and my own. They shall be beholden to
the white woman for naught but their shelter. For that, too, I will
make restitution in the days to come."
"Pshaw, Wahneeny! I wouldn't mind a bit of a sharp tongue, if I was
you. Ma don't mean no hurt. She's used to bein' boss, that's all; an'
she will be the first to be glad she's got another female to consort
with. I wouldn't lay up no grudge. I wouldn't."
But the matter settled itself as the Indian suggested. It was pain and
torment to her to hear Mercy alternately petting and correcting her
darlings, yet for their sakes she endured that much and more. She even
failed to resent the fact that, after a short residence at the farm,
the Smiths both began to refer to her as "our hired girl, that's
workin' for her keep an' the childern's."
It did not matter to her now. Nothing mattered so long as she was
still within sight and sound of her Sun Maid's beauty and laughter;
and by the time spring came she had procured the needful skins to
construct the wigwam she desired. Her skill in nursing, that had been
well known among her own people, she now made a means of sustaining
her independence. Such aid as she could render was indeed difficult to
be obtained by the isolated dwellers in that wilderness; and having
nursed Abel through a siege of inflammatory rheumatism, as he had
never been cared for before, he sounded her praises far and near, and
to all of the chance passers-by.
For her service among those who could pay she charged a very moderate
wage, but it sufficed; and, for the sake of pleasing her children, she
adopted a dress very like that worn by all the women of the frontier.
Kitty, also, had soon been clothed "like a Christian" by Mercy's
decision; but Wahneenah still carefully preserved the dainty Indian
costume Katasha had given the child; along with the sacred White Bow
and the priceless Necklace.
As for the three horses on which she and the two children had stolen
away from their enemies in the cave of refuge, Abel had long ago
decided that they were but kittle cattle, unfitted for the sober work
of life which his own oxen and old nag Dobbin performed so well. So
they were left in idleness, to graze where they pleased, and were
little used except by their owners for a rare ride afield. The
Chestnut, however, carried Wahneenah to and fro upon her nursing
trips; for, unless the case were too urgent to be left, she always
returned at nightfall to her own lodge and the nearness of her Sun
Maid.
Thus four uneventful years passed away, and it had come to the time of
the wheat harvest.
"And it's to be the biggest, grandest frolic ever was in this part of
the country," declared the settler, proudly.
Whereupon, days before, Mercy began to brew and bake, and even
Wahneenah condescended to assist in the household labor. But she did
this that she might if possible lighten that of her Sun Maid, who had
now grown to a "real good-sized girl an' just as smart as chain
lightning."
This was Abel's description. Mercy's would have been:
"Kitty's well enough. But she hates to sew her seam like she hates
poison. She'd ruther be makin' posies an' animals out my nice clean
fresh-churned butter than learn cookin'. But she's good-tempered.
Never flies out at all, like Gaspar, 'cept I lose patience with
Wahneeny. Then, look sharp!"
"Well, I tell you that out in this country a harvestin' is a big
institution!" cried Abel to Gaspar as, early on the morning of the
eventful day, they were making all things ready for the accommodation
of the people who would flock to the Smith farm to assist in the labor
and participate in the fun. "If there's some things we miss here, we
have some that can't be matched out East. Every white settler's every
other settler's neighbor, even though there's miles betwixt their
clearin's. All hands helpin' so makes light work of raisin' cabins or
barns, sowin', reapin', or clearin'. I--I declare I feel as excited as
a boy. But you don't seem to. You're gettin' a great lad now, Gaspar,
an' one these days I'll be thinkin' of payin' you some wages. If so be
I can afford it, an'----"
"And Mercy will let you!"
"Hi, diddle diddle! What's struck you crosswise, sonny?"
"I'm tired of working so hard for other people. I want a chance to do
something for myself. I'm not ungrateful; don't think it. But see. I
am already taller than you and I can do as much work in a day. Where
is the justice, then, of my labor going for naught?"
"Why, Gaspar. Why, why, why!" exclaimed the pioneer, too astonished to
say more.
Gaspar went on with his task of clearing the barn floor and arranging
tying places for the visitors' teams; but his dark face was clouded
and anxious, showing little of the anticipation which Abel's did.
"I'm going to ask you, Father Abel, to let me try for a job somewhere
else; that is, if you can't really pay me anything, as your wife
declares. Then, by and by, when I can earn enough to get ahead a
little, I'd pay you back for all you've spent on us three."
Abel's face had fallen, and he now looked as if he might be expecting
some dire disaster rather than a frolic. But it brightened presently.
"Yes, Gaspar; I know you're big, and well-growed. But you're young
yet--dreadful young----"
"I'm near fifteen."
"Well, you won't be out your time till you're twenty-one."
"What 'time'?" asked the lad, angrily, though he knew the answer.
"Hmm. Of course, there wasn't no regular papers drawed, but it was
understood; it was always understood between ma and me that if we took
you all in, and did for you while you was growin' up, your service
belonged to us. Same's if you'd been bound by the authorities."
"Get over there, Dobbin!"
"Pshaw! You must be real tried in your mind to hit a four-footed
creatur' like that. I hain't never noticed that you was short-spoke
with the stock--not before this morning. I wish you wouldn't get out
of sorts to-day, boy! I--well, there's things afoot 'at I think you'd
like to take a share in. There. That'll do. Now, just turn another
edge on them reapin' knives, an' see that there's plenty o' water in
the troughs, an' feed them fattin' pigs in the pen, an'--Shucks! He's
off already. I wonder what's took him so short! I wonder if he's got
wind of anything out the common!"
The latter part of Abel's words were spoken to himself, for Gaspar had
taken his knives to the grindstone in the yard and was now calling for
Kitty to turn the stone for him, while he should hold the blades
against its surface.
But it was Mercy who answered his summons, appearing in the doorway
with her sleeves rolled up, her apron floured, and her round face
aglow with haste and excitement.
"Well? well, Gaspar Keith? What you want of Kit?"
"To help me."
"Help yourself. I can't spare her."
"Then I can't grind the knives. That's all." He tossed them down to
wait her pleasure, and Mercy groaned.
"If I ain't the worst bestead woman in the world! Here's all creation
coming to be fed, an' no help but a little girl like Kit an' a grumpy
old squaw 't don't know enough to 'preciate her privileges. Hey!
Gaspar! Call Abel in to breakfast. An' after that maybe sissy can turn
the stun. Here 'tis goin' on six o'clock, if it's a minute, an' some
the folks'll be pokin' over here by seven, sure!"
Then Mercy retreated within doors and directed the Sun Maid to:
"Fly 'round right smart now an' set the house to one side. Whisk them
flapjacks over quicker 'an that, then they'll not splish-splash all
over the griddle. When I was a little girl nine years old I could fry
cakes as round as an apple. No reason why you shouldn't, too, if you
put your mind to it."
The Sun Maid laughed. No amount of fret or labor had ever yet had
power to dim the brightness of her nature. Was it the Sun Maid,
though? One had to look twice to see. For this tall, slender girl now
wore her glorious hair in a braid, and her frock was of coarse blue
homespun.
Her feet were bare, and her plump shoulders bowed a little because of
the heavy burdens which her "mother Mercy" saw fit to put upon them.
"But I guess I don't want to put my mind to it. I can't see anything
pretty in 'jacks which are to be eaten right up. Only I like to have
them taste right for the folks. That's all."
Abel and Gaspar came in, and Kitty placed a plate of steaming cakes
before them. Mercy hurried to the big churn outside the door and began
to work the dasher up and down as if she hadn't an ounce of butter in
her dairy and must needs prepare this lot for the festival. As she
churned she kept up a running fire of directions to the household
within, finally suggesting, in a burst of liberality due to the
occasion:
"You can fry what flapjacks you want for yourself, Wahneeny. An' I
don't know as I care if you have a little syrup on 'em to-day--just
for once, so to speak."
However, Wahneenah disdained even the cakes, and the syrup-jug was
deposited in its place with undiminished contents.
"Be you all through, then? Well, Kit, fly 'round. Clear the table like
lightning, an' fetch that butter bowl out the spring, an' see if the
salt's all poun' an' sifted; an' open the draw's an' lay out my
clothes, an'--Dear me! Does seem 's if I should lose my senses with so
much to do an' no decent help, only----"
"Hold on, Mercy! What's the use of rushin' through life 's if you was
tryin' to break your neck?"
"Rushin'! With all that's comin' here to-day!"
"Well, let 'em come. We'll be glad to see 'em. Nobody gladder 'n you
yourself. But you fair take my breath away with your everlastin'
hurry-skurry, clitter-clatter. Don't give a man a chance to even kiss
his little girl good-mornin'. Do you know that, Sunny Maid? Hain't
said a word to your old Daddy yet!"
The child ran to him and fondly flung her arms as far as they would
go around the settler's broad shoulders. It was evident that there was
love and sympathy between these two, though they were to be allowed
short space "for foolin'" that day, and Mercy's call again interrupted
them:
"Come and take this butter down to the brook, Kit, an' wash it all
clean, an' salt it just right--here 'tis measured off--an' make haste.
I do believe you'd ruther stand there lovin' your old Abel--homely
creatur'!--than helpin' me. Yet, when I was a little girl your age, I
could work the butter over fit to beat the queen. Upon my word, I do
declare I see a wagon movin' 'crost the prairie this very minute! Oh!
what shall I do if I ain't ready when they get here!"
Catching at last something of the pleasurable excitement about her,
Kitty lifted the heavy butter-tray and started for the stream. The
butter was just fine and firm enough to tempt her fingers into a bit
of modelling, such as she had picked up for herself; and very speedily
she had arranged a row of miniature fruits and acorns, and was just
attempting to copy a flower which grew by the bank when Wahneenah's
voice, close at hand, warned her:
"Come, Girl-Child. The white mistress is in haste this morning. It is
better to carry back the butter in a lump than to make even such
pretty things and risk a scolding."
"But father Abel would like them for his company. He is very fond of
my fancy 'pats'."
"But not to-day. Besides, if there is time for idleness, I want you to
pass it here with me, in my own wigwam."
The Sun Maid looked up. "Shall you not be at the feasting, dear Other
Mother? You have many friends among those who are coming."
"Friendship is proved by too sharp a test sometimes. The way of the
world is to follow the crowd. If a person falls into disfavor with
one, all the rest begin to pick flaws. More than that: the temptation
of money ruins even noble natures."
"Why, Wahneenah! You sound as if you were talking riddles. Who is
tempted by money? and which way does the 'crowd' you mean go? I don't
understand you at all."
"May the Great Spirit be praised that it is so. May He long preserve
to you your innocent and loyal heart."
With these words, the Indian woman stooped and laid her hand upon the
child's head; then slowly entered her lodge and let its curtains fall
behind her. There was an unusual sternness about her demeanor which
impressed Kitty greatly; so that it was with a very sober face that
she herself gathered up her burdens and returned to the cabin.
Yet on the short way thither she met Gaspar, who beckoned to her from
behind the shelter of a haystack, motioning silence.
"But you mustn't keep me, Gaspar boy. Mother Mercy is terribly hurried
this morning, and now, for some reason, Other Mother has stopped
helping and has gone home to the tepee. If I don't work, it will about
crush her down, Mercy says."
"Hang Mercy! There. I don't mean that. I wish you wouldn't always look
so scared when I get mad. I am mad to-day, Kit. Mad clear through.
I've got to be around amongst folks, too, for a while; but the first
minute you get, you come to that pile of logs near Wahneenah's place,
and I'll have something to tell you."
"No you won't! No you won't! I know it already. I heard father Abel
talking. There is to be a horse race, after the harvesting and the
supper are over. There is a new man, or family, moved into the
neighborhood and he is a horse trader. I heard all about it, sir!"
"You heard that? Did you hear anything else? About Wahneenah and
money?"
"Only what she told me herself"; repeating the Indian woman's words.
"Then she knows, poor thing!" cried Gaspar, indignantly.