Books: The Last Trail
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Zane Grey >> The Last Trail
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"Such are my two bordermen, Miss Sheppard. The fort there, and all
these cabins, would be only black ashes, save for them, and as for us,
our wives and children--God only knows."
"Haven't they wives and children, too?" asked Helen.
"No," answered Colonel Zane, with his genial smile. "Such joys are not
for bordermen."
"Why not? Fine men like them deserve happiness," declared Helen.
"It is necessary we have such," said the colonel simply, "and they
cannot be bordermen unless free as the air blows. Wetzel and Jonathan
have never had sweethearts. I believe Wetzel loved a lass once; but he
was an Indian-killer whose hands were red with blood. He silenced his
heart, and kept to his chosen, lonely life. Jonathan does not seem to
realize that women exist to charm, to please, to be loved and married.
Once we twitted him about his brothers doing their duty by the border,
whereupon he flashed out: 'My life is the border's: my sweetheart is
the North Star!'"
Helen dreamily watched the dancing, dimpling waves that broke on the
stones of the river shore. All unconscious of the powerful impression
the colonel's recital had made upon her, she was feeling the greatness
of the lives of these bordermen, and the glory it would now be for her
to share with others the pride in their protection.
"Say, Sheppard, look here," said Colonel Zane, on the return to his
cabin, "that girl of yours has a pair of eyes. I can't forget the way
they flashed! They'll cause more trouble here among my garrison than
would a swarm of redskins."
"No! You don't mean it! Out here in this wilderness?" queried Sheppard
doubtfully.
"Well, I do."
"O Lord! What a time I've had with that girl! There was one man
especially, back home, who made our lives miserable. He was rich and
well born; but Helen would have none of him. He got around me, old
fool that I am! Practically stole what was left of my estate, and
gambled it away when Helen said she'd die before giving herself to
him. It was partly on his account that I brought her away. Then there
were a lot of moon-eyed beggars after her all the time, and she's
young and full of fire. I hoped I'd marry her to some farmer out here,
and end my days in peace."
"Peace? With eyes like those? Never on this green earth," and Colonel
Zane laughed as he slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry,
old fellow. You can't help her having those changing dark-blue eyes
any more than you can help being proud of them. They have won me,
already, susceptible old backwoodsman! I'll help you with this
spirited young lady. I've had experience, Sheppard, and don't you
forget it. First, my sister, a Zane all through, which is saying
enough. Then as sweet and fiery a little Indian princess as ever
stepped in a beaded moccasin, and since, more than one beautiful,
impulsive creature. Being in authority, I suppose it's natural that
all the work, from keeping the garrison ready against an attack, to
straightening out love affairs, should fall upon me. I'll take the
care off your shoulders; I'll keep these young dare-devils from
killing each other over Miss Helen's favors. I certainly--Hello! There
are strangers at the gate. Something's up."
Half a dozen rough-looking men had appeared from round the corner of
the cabin, and halted at the gate.
"Bill Elsing, and some of his men from Yellow Creek," said Colonel
Zane, as he went toward the group.
"Hullo, Kurnel," was the greeting of the foremost, evidently the
leader. "We've lost six head of hosses over our way, an' are out
lookin' 'em up."
"The deuce you have! Say, this horse-stealing business is getting
interesting. What did you come in for?"
"Wal, we meets Jonathan on the ridge about sunup, an' he sent us back
lickety-cut. Said he had two of the hosses corralled, an' mebbe Wetzel
could git the others."
"That's strange," replied Colonel Zane thoughtfully.
"'Pears to me Jack and Wetzel hev some redskins treed, an' didn't want
us to spile the fun. Mebbe there wasn't scalps enough to go round.
Anyway, we come in, an' we'll hang up here to-day."
"Bill, who's doing this horse-stealing?"
"Damn if I know. It's a mighty pert piece of work. I've a mind it's
some slick white fellar, with Injuns backin' him."
Helen noted, when she was once more indoors, that Colonel Zane's wife
appeared worried. Her usual placid expression was gone. She put off
the playful overtures of her two bright boys with unusual
indifference, and turned to her husband with anxious questioning as to
whether the strangers brought news of Indians. Upon being assured that
such was not the case, she looked relieved, and explained to Helen
that she had seen armed men come so often to consult the colonel
regarding dangerous missions and expeditions, that the sight of a
stranger caused her unspeakable dread.
"I am accustomed to danger, yet I can never control my fears for my
husband and children," said Mrs. Zane. "The older I grow the more of a
coward I am. Oh! this border life is sad for women. Only a little
while ago my brother Samuel McColloch was shot and scalped right here
on the river bank. He was going to the spring for a bucket of water. I
lost another brother in almost the same way. Every day during the
summer a husband and a father fall victim to some murderous Indian. My
husband will go in the same way some day. The border claims them all."
"Bessie, you must not show your fears to our new friend. And, Miss
Helen, don't believe she's the coward she would make out," said the
colonel's sister smilingly.
"Betty is right, Bess, don't frighten her," said Colonel Zane. "I'm
afraid I talked too much to-day. But, Miss Helen, you were so
interested, and are such a good listener, that I couldn't refrain.
Once for all let me say that you will no doubt see stirring life here;
but there is little danger of its affecting you. To be sure I think
you'll have troubles; but not with Indians or outlaws."
He winked at his wife and sister. At first Helen did not understand
his sally, but then she blushed red all over her fair face.
Some time after that, while unpacking her belongings, she heard the
clatter of horses' hoofs on the rocky road, accompanied by loud
voices. Running to the window, she saw a group of men at the gate.
"Miss Sheppard, will you come out?" called Colonel Zane's sister from
the door. "My brother Jonathan has returned."
Helen joined Betty at the door, and looked over her shoulder.
"Wal, Jack, ye got two on 'em, anyways," drawled a voice which she
recognized as that of Elsing's.
A man, lithe and supple, slipped from the back of one of the horses,
and, giving the halter to Elsing with a single word, turned and
entered the gate. Colonel Zane met him there.
"Well, Jonathan, what's up?"
"There's hell to pay," was the reply, and the speaker's voice rang
clear and sharp.
Colonel Zane laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, and thus they
stood for a moment, singularly alike, and yet the sturdy pioneer was,
somehow, far different from the dark-haired borderman.
"I thought we'd trouble in store from the look on your face," said the
colonel calmly. "I hope you haven't very bad news on the first day,
for our old friends from Virginia."
"Jonathan," cried Betty when he did not answer the colonel. At her
call he half turned, and his dark eyes, steady, strained like those of
a watching deer, sought his sister's face.
"Betty, old Jake Lane was murdered by horse thieves yesterday, and
Mabel Lane is gone."
"Oh!" gasped Betty; but she said nothing more.
Colonel Zane cursed inaudibly.
"You know, Eb, I tried to keep Lane in the settlement for Mabel's
sake. But he wanted to work that farm. I believe horse-stealing wasn't
as much of an object as the girl. Pretty women are bad for the border,
or any other place, I guess. Wetzel has taken the trail, and I came in
because I've serious suspicions--I'll explain to you alone."
The borderman bowed gravely to Helen, with a natural grace, and yet a
manner that sat awkwardly upon him. The girl, slightly flushed, and
somewhat confused by this meeting with the man around whom her
romantic imagination had already woven a story, stood in the doorway
after giving him a fleeting glance, the fairest, sweetest picture of
girlish beauty ever seen.
The men went into the house; but their voices came distinctly through
the door.
"Eb, if Bing Legget or Girty ever see that big-eyed lass, they'll have
her even if Fort Henry has to be burned, an' in case they do get her,
Wetzel an' I'll have taken our last trail."
CHAPTER III
Supper over, Colonel Zane led his guests to a side porch, where they
were soon joined by Mrs. Zane and Betty. The host's two boys, Noah and
Sammy, who had preceded them, were now astride the porch-rail and, to
judge by their antics, were riding wild Indian mustangs.
"It's quite cool," said Colonel Zane; "but I want you to see the
sunset in the valley. A good many of your future neighbors may come
over to-night for a word of welcome. It's the border custom."
He was about to seat himself by the side of Mr. Sheppard, on a rustic
bench, when a Negro maid appeared in the doorway carrying a smiling,
black-eyed baby. Colonel Zane took the child and, holding it aloft,
said with fatherly pride:
"This is Rebecca Zane, the first girl baby born to the Zanes, and
destined to be the belle of the border."
"May I have her?" asked Helen softly, holding out her arms. She took
the child, and placed it upon her knee where its look of solemnity
soon changed to one of infantile delight.
"Here come Nell and Jim," said Mrs. Zane, pointing toward the fort.
"Yes, and there comes my brother Silas with his wife, too," added
Colonel Zane. "The first couple are James Douns, our young minister,
and Nell, his wife. They came out here a year or so ago. James had a
brother Joe, the finest young fellow who ever caught the border fever.
He was killed by one of the Girtys. His was a wonderful story, and
some day you shall hear about the parson and his wife."
"What's the border fever?" asked Mr. Sheppard.
"It's what brought you out here," replied Colonel Zane with a hearty
laugh.
Helen gazed with interest at the couple now coming into the yard, and
when they gained the porch she saw that the man was big and tall, with
a frank, manly bearing, while his wife was a slender little woman with
bright, sunny hair, and a sweet, smiling face. They greeted Helen and
her father cordially.
Next came Silas Zane, a typical bronzed and bearded pioneer, with his
buxom wife. Presently a little group of villagers joined the party.
They were rugged men, clad in faded buckskins, and sober-faced women
who wore dresses of plain gray linsey. They welcomed the newcomers
with simple, homely courtesy. Then six young frontiersmen appeared
from around a corner of the cabin, advancing hesitatingly. To Helen
they all looked alike, tall, awkward, with brown faces and big hands.
When Colonel Zane cheerily cried out to them, they stumbled forward
with evident embarrassment, each literally crushing Helen's hand in
his horny palm. Afterward they leaned on the rail and stole glances
at her.
Soon a large number of villagers were on the porch or in the yard.
After paying their respects to Helen and her father they took part in
a general conversation. Two or three girls, the latest callers, were
surrounded by half a dozen young fellows, and their laughter sounded
high above the hum of voices.
Helen gazed upon this company with mingled feelings of relief and
pleasure. She had been more concerned regarding the young people with
whom her lot might be cast, than the dangers of which others had told.
She knew that on the border there was no distinction of rank. Though
she came of an old family, and, during her girlhood, had been
surrounded by refinement, even luxury, she had accepted cheerfully the
reverses of fortune, and was determined to curb the pride which had
been hers. It was necessary she should have friends. Warm-hearted,
impulsive and loving, she needed to have around her those in whom she
could confide. Therefore it was with sincere pleasure she understood
how groundless were her fears and knew that if she did not find good,
true friends the fault would be her own. She saw at a glance that the
colonel's widowed sister was her equal, perhaps her superior, in
education and breeding, while Nellie Douns was as well-bred and
gracious a little lady as she had ever met. Then, the other girls,
too, were charming, with frank wholesomeness and freedom.
Concerning the young men, of whom there were about a dozen, Helen had
hardly arrived at a conclusion. She liked the ruggedness, the signs of
honest worth which clung to them. Despite her youth, she had been much
sought after because of her personal attractions, and had thus added
experience to the natural keen intuition all women possess. The
glances of several of the men, particularly the bold regard of one
Roger Brandt, whom Colonel Zane introduced, she had seen before, and
learned to dislike. On the whole, however, she was delighted with the
prospect of new friends and future prosperity, and she felt even
greater pleasure in the certainty that her father shared her
gratification.
Suddenly she became aware that the conversation had ceased. She looked
up to see the tall, lithe form of Jonathan Zane as he strode across
the porch. She could see that a certain constraint had momentarily
fallen upon the company. It was an involuntary acknowledgment of the
borderman's presence, of a presence that worked on all alike with a
subtle, strong magnetism.
"Ah, Jonathan, come out to see the sunset? It's unusually fine
to-night," said Colonel Zane.
With hardly more than a perceptible bow to those present, the
borderman took a seat near the rail, and, leaning upon it, directed
his gaze westward.
Helen sat so near she could have touched him. She was conscious of the
same strange feeling, and impelling sense of power, which had come
upon her so strongly at first sight of him. More than that, a lively
interest had been aroused in her. This borderman was to her a new and
novel character. She was amused at learning that here was a young man
absolutely indifferent to the charms of the opposite sex, and although
hardly admitting such a thing, she believed it would be possible to
win him from his indifference. On raising her eyelids, it was with the
unconcern which a woman feigns when suspecting she is being regarded
with admiring eyes. But Jonathan Zane might not have known of her
presence, for all the attention he paid her. Therefore, having a good
opportunity to gaze at this borderman of daring deeds, Helen regarded
him closely.
He was clad from head to foot in smooth, soft buckskin which fitted
well his powerful frame. Beaded moccasins, leggings bound high above
the knees, hunting coat laced and fringed, all had the neat, tidy
appearance due to good care. He wore no weapons. His hair fell in a
raven mass over his shoulders. His profile was regular, with a long,
straight nose, strong chin, and eyes black as night. They were now
fixed intently on the valley. The whole face gave an impression of
serenity, of calmness.
Helen was wondering if the sad, almost stern, tranquility of that face
ever changed, when the baby cooed and held out its chubby little
hands. Jonathan's smile, which came quickly, accompanied by a warm
light in the eyes, relieved Helen of an unaccountable repugnance she
had begun to feel toward the borderman. That smile, brief as a flash,
showed his gentle kindness and told that he was not a creature who had
set himself apart from human life and love.
As he took little Rebecca, one of his hands touched Helen's. If he had
taken heed of the contact, as any ordinary man might well have, she
would, perhaps, have thought nothing about it, but because he did not
appear to realize that her hand had been almost inclosed in his, she
could not help again feeling his singular personality. She saw that
this man had absolutely no thought of her. At the moment this did not
awaken resentment, for with all her fire and pride she was not vain;
but amusement gave place to a respect which came involuntarily.
Little Rebecca presently manifested the faithlessness peculiar to her
sex, and had no sooner been taken upon Jonathan's knee than she cried
out to go back to Helen.
"Girls are uncommon coy critters," said he, with a grave smile in his
eyes. He handed back the child, and once more was absorbed in the
setting sun.
Helen looked down the valley to behold the most beautiful spectacle
she had ever seen. Between the hills far to the west, the sky flamed
with a red and gold light. The sun was poised above the river, and the
shimmering waters merged into a ruddy horizon. Long rays of crimson
fire crossed the smooth waters. A few purple clouds above caught the
refulgence, until aided by the delicate rose and blue space beyond,
they became many hued ships sailing on a rainbow sea. Each second saw
a gorgeous transformation. Slowly the sun dipped into the golden
flood; one by one the clouds changed from crimson to gold, from gold
to rose, and then to gray; slowly all the tints faded until, as the
sun slipped out of sight, the brilliance gave way to the soft
afterglow of warm lights. These in turn slowly toned down into
gray twilight.
Helen retired to her room soon afterward, and, being unusually
thoughtful, sat down by the window. She reviewed the events of this
first day of her new life on the border. Her impressions had been so
many, so varied, that she wanted to distinguish them. First she felt
glad, with a sweet, warm thankfulness, that her father seemed so
happy, so encouraged by the outlook. Breaking old ties had been, she
knew, no child's play for him. She realized also that it had been done
solely because there had been nothing left to offer her in the old
home, and in a new one were hope and possibilities. Then she was
relieved at getting away from the attentions of a man whose
persistence had been most annoying to her. From thoughts of her
father, and the old life, she came to her new friends of the present.
She was so grateful for their kindness. She certainly would do all in
her power to win and keep their esteem.
Somewhat of a surprise was it to her, that she reserved for Jonathan
Zane the last and most prominent place in her meditations. She
suddenly asked herself how she regarded this fighting borderman. She
recalled her unbounded enthusiasm for the man as Colonel Zane had told
of him; then her first glimpse, and her surprise and admiration at the
lithe-limbed young giant; then incredulity, amusement, and respect
followed in swift order, after which an unaccountable coldness that
was almost resentment. Helen was forced to admit that she did not know
how to regard him, but surely he was a man, throughout every inch of
his superb frame, and one who took life seriously, with neither
thought nor time for the opposite sex. And this last brought a blush
to her cheek, for she distinctly remembered she had expected, if not
admiration, more than passing notice from this hero of the border.
Presently she took a little mirror from a table near where she sat.
Holding it to catch the fast-fading light, she studied her face
seriously.
"Helen Sheppard, I think on the occasion of your arrival in a new
country a little plain talk will be wholesome. Somehow or other,
perhaps because of a crowd of idle men back there in the colonies,
possibly from your own misguided fancy, you imagined you were fair to
look at. It is well to be undeceived."
Scorn spoke in Helen's voice. She was angry because of having been
interested in a man, and allowed that interest to betray her into a
girlish expectation that he would treat her as all other men had. The
mirror, even in the dim light, spoke more truly than she, for it
caught the golden tints of her luxuriant hair, the thousand beautiful
shadows in her great, dark eyes, the white glory of a face fair as a
star, and the swelling outline of neck and shoulders.
With a sudden fiery impetuosity she flung the glass to the floor,
where it was broken into several pieces.
"How foolish of me! What a temper I have!" she exclaimed repentantly.
"I'm glad I have another glass. Wouldn't Mr. Jonathan Zane, borderman,
Indian fighter, hero of a hundred battles and never a sweetheart, be
flattered? No, most decidedly he wouldn't. He never looked at me. I
don't think I expected that; I'm sure I didn't want it; but still he
might have--Oh! what am I thinking, and he a stranger?"
Before Helen lost herself in slumber on that eventful evening, she
vowed to ignore the borderman; assured herself that she did not want
to see him again, and, rather inconsistently, that she would cure him
of his indifference.
* * * * *
When Colonel Zane's guests had retired, and the villagers were gone to
their homes, he was free to consult with Jonathan.
"Well, Jack," he said, "I'm ready to hear about the horse thieves."
"Wetzel makes it out the man who's runnin' this hoss-stealin' is
located right here in Fort Henry," answered the borderman.
The colonel had lived too long on the frontier to show surprise; he
hummed a tune while the genial expression faded slowly from his face.
"Last count there were one hundred and ten men at the fort," he
replied thoughtfully. "I know over a hundred, and can trust them.
There are some new fellows on the boats, and several strangers hanging
round Metzar's."
"'Pears to Lew an' me that this fellar is a slick customer, an' one
who's been here long enough to know our hosses an' where we
keep them."
"I see. Like Miller, who fooled us all, even Betty, when he stole our
powder and then sold us to Girty," rejoined Colonel Zane grimly.
"Exactly, only this fellar is slicker an' more desperate than Miller."
"Right you are, Jack, for the man who is trusted and betrays us, must
be desperate. Does he realize what he'll get if we ever find out, or
is he underrating us?"
"He knows all right, an' is matchin' his cunnin' against our'n."
"Tell me what you and Wetzel learned."
The borderman proceeded to relate the events that had occurred during
a recent tramp in the forest with Wetzel. While returning from a hunt
in a swamp several miles over the ridge, back of Fort Henry, they ran
across the trail of three Indians. They followed this until darkness
set in, when both laid down to rest and wait for the early dawn, that
time most propitious for taking the savage by surprise. On resuming
the trail they found that other Indians had joined the party they were
tracking. To the bordermen this was significant of some unusual
activity directed toward the settlement. Unable to learn anything
definite from the moccasin traces, they hurried up on the trail to
find that the Indians had halted.
Wetzel and Jonathan saw from their covert that the savages had a woman
prisoner. A singular feature about it all was that the Indians
remained in the same place all day, did not light a camp-fire, and
kept a sharp lookout. The bordermen crept up as close as safe, and
remained on watch during the day and night.
Early next morning, when the air was fading from black to gray, the
silence was broken by the snapping of twigs and a tremor of the
ground. The bordermen believed another company of Indians was
approaching; but they soon saw it was a single white man leading a
number of horses. He departed before daybreak. Wetzel and Jonathan
could not get a clear view of him owing to the dim light; but they
heard his voice, and afterwards found the imprint of his moccasins.
They did, however, recognize the six horses as belonging to settlers
in Yellow Creek.
While Jonathan and Wetzel were consulting as to what it was best to
do, the party of Indians divided, four going directly west, and the
others north. Wetzel immediately took the trail of the larger party
with the prisoner and four of the horses. Jonathan caught two of the
animals which the Indians had turned loose, and tied them in the
forest. He then started after the three Indians who had gone
northward.
"Well?" Colonel Zane said impatiently, when Jonathan hesitated in his
story.
"One got away," he said reluctantly. "I barked him as he was runnin'
like a streak through the bushes, an' judged that he was hard hit. I
got the hosses, an' turned back on the trail of the white man."
"Where did it end?"
"In that hard-packed path near the blacksmith shop. An' the fellar
steps as light as an Injun."
"He's here, then, sure as you're born. We've lost no horses yet, but
last week old Sam heard a noise in the barn, and on going there found
Betty's mare out of her stall."
"Some one as knows the lay of the land had been after her," suggested
Jonathan.
"You can bet on that. We've got to find him before we lose all the
fine horse-flesh we own. Where do these stolen animals go? Indians
would steal any kind; but this thief takes only the best."
"I'm to meet Wetzel on the ridge soon, an' then we'll know, for he's
goin' to find out where the hosses are taken."
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