The Zane Grey Megapack. Zane Grey
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“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 today.”
“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 today. 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 tonight 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.