Dorn Of The Mountains (6 page)

“Never mind, Nell dear. Let’s take what comes,” murmured Bo.

“That’s the talk,” said Dorn. “You see I’ve come right out with the worst. Maybe we’ll get through easy. When we meet the boys, we’ll take to the horses an’ the trails. Can you ride?”

“Bo has been used to hosses all her life and I ride fairly well,” responded Helen. The idea of riding quickened her spirit.

“Good! We may have some hard ridin’ before I get you up to Pine…. Hello, what’s that?”

Above the
creaking, rattling,
rolling roar of the stage Helen heard a rapid beat of hoofs. A horse flashed by, galloping hard.

Dorn opened the door and peered out. The stage rolled to a halt. Dorn stepped down and peered ahead.

“Joe, who was that?” he queried.

“Nary me. An’ Bill didn’t know him, either,” replied Joe. “I seen him ‘way back. He was ridin’ some. An’ he slowed up goin’ past us. Now he’s runnin’ again.”

Dorn shook his head as if he did not like the circumstance.

“Milt, he’ll never get by Roy on this road,” said Joe.

“Maybe he’ll get by before Roy strikes in on the road.”

“It ain’t likely.”

Helen could not restrain her fears. “Mister Dorn, you think he was a messenger…going ahead to pass that…that Anson gang?”

“He might be,” replied Dorn simply.

Then the young man called Joe leaned out from the seat above and called: “Miss Helen, don’t you worry, thet fellar is more liable to stop lead than anythin’ else!”

His words, meant to be kind and reasoning, were about as sinister to Helen as the menace to her own life. Long had she known how cheap life was held in the West, but she had only known it abstractly, and she had never let the fact remain before her consciousness. This cheerful young man spoke calmly of spilling blood on her behalf. The thought it roused was tragic…for bloodshed was insupportable to her…and then the thrills that followed now so new, strange, bold, and tingling that they were revolting. Helen grew conscious of unplumbed depths, of instincts at which she was amazed and ashamed.

“Joe, hand down that basket of grub…the small one with the canteen,” said Dorn, reaching out a long arm. Presently he placed a cloth-covered basket inside the stage. “Girls, eat all you want an’ then some.”

“We have a basket half full yet,” replied Helen.

“You’ll need it all before we get to Pine…. Now I’ll ride up on top with the boys an’ eat my supper. It’ll be dark presently, an’ we’ll stop often to listen. But don’t be scared.”

With that he took his rifle and, closing the door, clambered up to the driver’s seat. Then the stage lurched again and began to roll along.

Not the least thing to wonder at of this eventful evening was the way Bo reached for the basket of food. Helen simply stared at her.

“Bo, you can’t eat!” she exclaimed.

“I should smile I can,” replied that practical young lady. “And you’re going to if I have to stuff things in your mouth. Where’s your wits, Nell? He said we must eat. That means our strength is going to have some pretty severe trials…. Gee, it’s all great…just like a story! The unexpected…why, he looks like a prince turned hunter…long dark stage journey…held up…fight…escape…wild ride on horses…woods and camps and wild places…pursued…hidden in the forest…more hard rides…then safe at the ranch. And of course he falls madly in love with me…no you, for I’d be true to my Las Vegas lover….”

“Hush, silly! Bo, tell me, aren’t you
scared?
”

“Scared! I’m scared stiff. But if Western girls stand such things, we can. No Western girl is going to beat
me!
”

That brought Helen to a realization of the brave place she had given herself in dreams, and she was at once ashamed of herself, and wildly proud of this little sister.

“Bo, thank heaven I brought you with me!” exclaimed Helen fervently. “I’ll eat if it chokes me.”

Whereupon she found herself actually hungry, and, while she ate, she glanced out of the stage, first from one side, and then from the other. These windows had no glass and they let the cool night air blow in. The sun had long since sunk. Out to the west, where a long bold black horizon line swept away suddenly, the sky was clear gold shading to yellow and blue above. Stars were out, pale and wan, but growing brighter. The earth appeared bare and heaving, like a calm sea. The wind bore a fragrance new to Helen, acridly sweet and clean, and it was so cold it made her fingers numb.

“I heard some animal yelp,” said Bo suddenly, and she listened with head poised.

But Helen heard nothing save the steady
clip-clop
of hoofs, the
clink
of chains, the
creak
and
rattle
of the old stage, and occasionally the low voices of the men above.

When the girls had satisfied hunger and thirst, night had settled down black. They pulled the cloaks up over them and, close together, leaned back in a corner of the seat and talked in whispers. Helen did not have much to say, but Bo was talkative.

“This beats me,” she said once, after an interval. “Where are we, Nell? Those men up there are Mormons. Maybe they are abducting us.”

“Mister Dorn isn’t a Mormon,” replied Helen.

“How do you know?”

“I could tell by the way he spoke of his friends.”

“Well, I wish it wasn’t so dark. I’m not afraid of men in daylight…. Nell, did you ever see such a wonderful-looking fellow? What’d they call him? Milt…Milt Dorn. He said he lived in the woods. If I hadn’t fallen in love with that cowboy who called me…well, I’d be a goner now.”

After an interval of silence Bo whispered startlingly: “Wonder if Harve Riggs is following us now?”

“Of course he is,” replied Helen hopelessly.

“He’d better look out. Why, Nell, he never saw…he never…what did Uncle Al used to call it?…saw…savvied…that’s it. Riggs never savvied that hunter. But I did, you bet.”

“Savvied! What do you mean, Bo?”

“I mean that long-haired galoot never saw his real danger. But I felt it. Something went tight inside me. Dorn never took him seriously at all.”

“Riggs will turn up at Uncle Al’s sure as I’m born,” said Helen.

“Let him turn,” replied Bo contemptuously. “Nell, don’t you ever bother your head again about him. I’ll bet they’re all men out here. And I wouldn’t be in Harve Riggs’s boots for a lot.”

After that Bo talked of her uncle, and his fatal illness, and from that she drifted back to the loved ones at home, now seemingly at the other side of the world, and then she broke down and cried, after which she fell asleep on Helen’s shoulder.

But Helen could not have fallen asleep if she had wanted to.

She had always, since she could remember, longed for a moving active life, and for want of a better ideal she had chosen to dream of Gypsies. And now it struck her grimly that, if these first few hours of her advent in the West were forecasts of the future, she was destined to have her longings fulfilled with a vengeance.

Presently the stage rolled slower and slower until it came to a halt. Then the horses heaved, the harnesses
clinked
, the men whispered. Otherwise, there was an intense quiet. She looked out, expecting to find it pitch dark. It was black, yet a transparent blackness. To her surprise she could see a long way. A shooting star electrified her. The men were listening. She listened, too, but, beyond the slight sounds about the stage, she heard nothing. Presently the driver clucked his horses, and travel was resumed.

For a while the stage rolled on rapidly, evidently downhill, swaying from side to side, and rolling as if about to fall to pieces. Then it slowed on a level, and again it halted for a few moments, and once more in motion it began a laborsome climb. Helen imagined miles had been covered. The desert appeared to heave into billows, growing rougher, and dark round bushes dimly stood out. The road grew uneven and rocky, and, when the stage began another descent, its violent rocking jolted Bo out of her sleep, and in fact almost out of Helen’s arms.

“Where am I?” asked Bo dazedly.

“Bo, you’re having your heart’s desire, but I can’t tell you where you are,” replied Helen.

Bo awakened thoroughly, which fact was now no wonder, considering the jostling of the old stage.

“Hold on to me, Nell! Is it a runaway?”

“We’ve come about a thousand miles like this, I think,” replied Helen. “I’ve not a whole bone in my body.”

Bo peered out of the window. “Oh, how dark and lonesome! But it’d be nice if it wasn’t so cold. I’m freezing.”

“I thought you loved cold air,” taunted Helen.

“Say, Nell, you begin to talk like yourself,” responded Bo.

It was difficult to hold on to the stage and each other and the cloak all at once, but they succeeded except on the roughest places, when from time to time they were bounced around. Bo sustained a sharp rap on the head.

“Ooooo!”
she moaned. “Nell Rayner, I’ll never forgive you for fetching me on this awful trip.”

“Just think of your handsome Las Vegas cowboy,” replied Helen.

Either this remark squelched Bo or the suggestion sufficed to reconcile her to the hardships of the ride.

Meanwhile, as they talked and maintained silence and tried to sleep, the driver of that stage kept at his task after the manner of Western men who knew how to get the best out of horses and bad roads and distance.

By and by the stage halted again and remained at a standstill for so long, with the men whispering on top, that Helen and Bo were roused to apprehension.

Suddenly a sharp whistle came from the darkness ahead.

“Thet’s Roy,” said Joe Beeman in a low voice.

“I reckon. An’ meetin’ us so quick looks bad,” replied Dorn. “Drive on, Bill.”

“Mebbe it seems quick to you,” muttered the driver. “But if we hain’t come thirty miles, an’ if thet ridge thar hasn’t your turnin’ off place, why I don’t know nuthin’.”

The stage rolled on a little farther while Helen and Bo sat clasping each other tightly, wondering with bated breath what was to be the next thing to happen.

Then once more they were at a standstill. Helen heard the
thud
of boots striking the ground and the snorts of horses.

“Nell, I see horses,” whispered Bo excitedly. “There, to the side of the road…and here comes a man….Oh! If he shouldn’t be the one they’re expecting!”

Helen peered out to see a tall dark form, moving silently, and beyond it a vague outline of horses, and then the pale gleam of what must have been pack loads.

Dorn loomed up and met the stranger in the road.

“Howdy, Milt. You got the girl sure or you wouldn’t be here,” said a low voice.

“Roy, I’ve got two girls…sisters,” replied Dorn.

The man, Roy, whistled softly under his breath. Then another lean rangy form strode out of the darkness and was met by Dorn.

“Now boys…how about Anson’s gang?” queried Dorn.

“At Snowdrop, drinkin’ an’ quarrelin’. Reckon they’ll leave there about daybreak,” replied Roy.

“How long have you been here?”

“Mebbe a couple of hours.”

“Any horse go by?”

“No.”

“Roy, a strange rider passed me last night before dark. He was hittin’ the road. An’ he’s got by here before you came.”

“I don’t like thet news,” replied Roy tersely. “Let’s rustle. With girls on hossback, you’ll need all the start you can get. Hey, John?”

“Snake Anson shore can foller hoss tracks,” replied the third man.

“Milt, say the word,” went on Roy as he looked up at the stars. “Daylight not far away. Here’s the forks of the road, an’ your hosses, an’ our outfit. You can be in the pines by sunup.”

In the silence that ensued Helen heard the throb of her heart and the panting little breaths of her sister. They both peered out, hands clenched together, watching and listening in strained attention.

“It’s possible that rider last night wasn’t a messenger to Anson,” said Dorn. “In that case Anson won’t make anythin’ of our wheel tracks or horse tracks. He’ll go right on to meet the regular stage. Bill, can you go back an’ meet the stage comin’ before Anson does?”

“Wal, I reckon so…an’ take it easy at thet,” replied Bill.

“All right,” continued Dorn instantly. “John, you an’ Joe an’ Hal ride back to meet the regular stage. An’ when you meet it, get in an’ be on it when Anson holds it up.”

“Thet’s shore agreeable to me,” drawled John.

“I’d like to be on it, too,” said Roy grimly.

“No, I’ll need you till I’m safe in the woods…. Bill, hand down the bags. An’ you, Roy, help me pack them. Did you get all the supplies I wanted?”

“Shore did. If the young ladies ain’t powerful particular, you can feed them well for a couple of months.”

Dorn wheeled, and, striding to the stage, he opened the door.

“Girls, you’re not asleep? Come!” he called.

Bo stepped down first. “I was asleep till this…this vehicle fell off the road back a ways,” she replied.

Roy Beeman’s low laugh was significant. He took off his sombrero and stood silently. The old driver smothered a loud guffaw.

“Vee-hicle! Wal, I’ll be dog-goned! Joe, did you hear thet? All the spunky gurls ain’t born out West.”

As Helen followed with cloak and bag, Roy assisted her, and she encountered keen eyes upon her face. He seemed both gentle and respectful, and she felt his solicitation. His heavy gun, swinging low, struck her as she stepped down.

Dorn reached in the stage and hauled out baskets and bags. Those he set down on the ground.

“Turn around, Bill, an’ go along with you. John an’ Hal will follow presently,” ordered Dorn.

“Wal, gurls,” said Bill, looking down upon them. “I was shore powerful glad to meet you-all. An’ I’m ashamed of my country…offerin’ two sich purty girls insults an’ low-down tricks. But shore you’ll go through safe now. You couldn’t be in better company fer ridin’ or huntin’ or marryin’ or gittin’ religion….”

“Shut up, you old grizzly,” broke in Dorn sharply.

“
Haw! Haw!
Good bye, gurls, an’ good luck,” ended Bill as he began to whip the reins.

Bo said good bye quite distinctly, but Helen could only murmur hers. The old driver seemed a friend.

Then the horses wheeled and stamped, the stage careened and
creaked,
presently to roll out of sight in the gloom.