Spirit of the Border. Zane Grey
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the contents of steaming kettles. One man swung an axe with a vigorous sweep and the clean, sharp strokes rang on the air; another hammered stakes into the ground on which to hang a kettle. Before a large cabin a fur trader was exhibiting his wares to three Indians. A second redskin was carrying a pack of pelts from a canoe drawn up on the riverbank. A small group of persons stood near; some were indifferent, and others gazed curiously at the savages. Two children peeped from behind their mother’s skirts as if half-curious, half-frightened.
From this scene, the significance of which had just dawned on him, Joe turned his eyes again to his companion. It was a sweet face he saw; one that was sedate, but had a promise of innumerable smiles. The blue eyes could not long hide flashes of merriment. The girl turned, and the two young people looked at each other. Her eyes softened with a woman’s gentleness as they rested upon him, for, broad of shoulder, and lithe and strong as a deerstalker, he was good to look at.
“Listen,” she said. “We have known each other only three weeks. Since you joined our wagon train, and have been so kind to me and so helpful to make that long, rough ride endurable, you have won my regard. I—I cannot say more, even if I would. You told me you ran away from your Virginian home to seek adventure on the frontier, and that you knew no one in all this wild country. You even said you could not, or would not, work at farming. Perhaps my sister and I are as unfitted as you for this life; but we must cling to our uncle because he is the only relative we have. He has come out to join the Moravians and to preach the gospel to these Indians. We shall share his life, and help him all we can. You have been telling me you—you cared for me, and now that we are about to part I—I don’t know what to say to you—unless it is: Give up this intention of yours to seek adventure, and come with us. It seems to me you need not hunt for excitement here; it will come unsought.”
“I wish I were Jim,” said he, suddenly.
“Who is Jim?”
“My brother.”
“Tell me of him.”
“There’s nothing much to tell. He and I are all that are left of our people, as you and Kate of yours. Jim’s a preacher, and the best fellow—oh! I cared a lot for Jim.”
“Then why did you leave him?”
“I was tired of Williamsburg—I quarreled with a fellow, and hurt him. Besides, I wanted to see the West; I’d like to hunt deer and bear and fight Indians. Oh, I’m not much good.”
“Was Jim the only one you cared for?” asked Nell, smiling. She was surprised to find him grave.
“Yes, except my horse and dog, and I had to leave them behind,” answered Joe, bowing his head a little.
“You’d like to be Jim because he’s a preacher, and could help Uncle convert the Indians?”
“Yes, partly that, but mostly because—somehow—something different you’ve said or done has made me care for you in a different way, and I’d like to be worthy of you.”
“I don’t think I can believe it, when you say you are ‘no good,’” she replied.
“Nell,” he cried, and suddenly grasped her hand.
She wrenched herself free, and leaped away from him. Her face was bright now, and the promise of smiles was made good.
“Behave yourself, sir.” She tossed her head with a familiar backward motion to throw the chestnut hair from her face, and looked at him with eyes veiled slightly under their lashes. “You will go with Kate and me?”
Before he could answer, a cry from someone on the plain below attracted their attention. They turned and saw another wagon train pulling into the settlement. The children were shouting and running alongside the weary oxen; men and women went forward expectantly.
“That must be the train Uncle expected. Let us go down,” said Nell.
Joe did not answer but followed her down the path. When they gained a clump of willows near the cabins he bent forward and took her hand. She saw the reckless gleam in his eyes.
“Don’t. They’ll see,” she whispered.
“If that’s the only reason you have, I reckon I don’t care,” said Joe.
“What do you mean? I didn’t say—I didn’t tell—oh! let me go!” implored Nell.
She tried to release the hand Joe had grasped in his broad palm, but in vain; the more she struggled the firmer was his hold. A frown wrinkled her brow and her eyes sparkled with spirit. She saw the fur trader’s wife looking out of the window, and remembered laughing and telling the good woman she did not like this young man; it was, perhaps, because she feared those sharp eyes that she resented his audacity. She opened her mouth to rebuke him; but no words came. Joe had bent his head and softly closed her lips with his own.
For a single instant during which Nell stood transfixed, as if with surprise, and looking up at Joe, she was dumb. Usually the girl was ready with sharp or saucy words and impulsive in her movements; but now the bewilderment of being kissed, particularly within view of the trader’s wife, confused her. Then she heard voices, and as Joe turned away with a smile on his face, the unusual warmth in her heart was followed by an angry throbbing.
Joe’s tall figure stood out distinctly as he leisurely strolled toward the incoming wagon train without looking backward. Flashing after him a glance that boded wordy trouble in the future, she ran into the cabin.
As she entered the door it seemed certain the grizzled frontiersman sitting on the bench outside had grinned knowingly at her and winked as if to say he would keep her secret. Mrs. Wentz, the fur trader’s wife, was seated by the open window which faced the fort; she was a large woman, strong of feature, and with that calm placidity of expression common to people who have lived long in sparsely populated districts. Nell glanced furtively at her and thought she detected the shadow of a smile in the gray eyes.
“I saw you and your sweetheart kissing behind the willow,” Mrs. Wentz said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I don’t see why you need hide to do it. We folks out here like to see the young people sparkin’. Your young man is a fine-appearin’ chap. I felt certain you was sweethearts, for all you allowed you’d known him only a few days. Lize Davis said she saw he was sweet on you. I like his face. Jake, my man, says as how he’ll make a good husband for you, and he’ll take to the frontier like a duck does to water. I’m sorry you’ll not tarry here awhile. We don’t see many lasses, especially any as pretty as you, and you’ll find it more quiet and lonesome the farther West you get. Jake knows all about Fort Henry, and Jeff Lynn, the hunter outside, he knows Eb and Jack Zane, and Wetzel, and all those Fort Henry men. You’ll be gettin’ married out there, won’t you?”
“You are—quite wrong,” said Nell, who all the while Mrs. Wentz was speaking grew rosier and rosier. “We’re not anything—”
Then Nell hesitated and finally ceased speaking. She saw that denials or explanations were futile; the simple woman had seen the kiss and formed her own conclusions. During the few days Nell had spent at Fort Pitt she had come to understand that the dwellers on the frontier took everything as a matter of course. She had seen them manifest a certain pleasure, but neither surprise, concern, nor any of the quick impulses so common among other people. And this was another lesson Nell took to heart. She realized that she was entering upon a life absolutely different from her former one, and the thought caused her to shrink from the ordeal. Yet all the suggestions regarding her future home; the stories told about Indians, renegades, and of the wild border life, fascinated her. These people who had settled in this wild region were simple, honest, and brave; they accepted what came as facts not to be questioned, and believed what looked true. Evidently the fur trader’s wife and her female neighbors had settled in their minds the relation in which the girl stood to Joe.
This latter reflection heightened Nell’s resentment toward her lover. She stood with her face turned away from Mrs. Wentz; the little frown deepened, and she nervously tapped her foot on the floor.
“Where is my sister?” she presently