The Mistress of Bonaventure

He stooped and kissed his daughter, then, turning, held out his hand to me. "Thank God! – but where is Beatrice?" he said.

I told him, my teeth rattling as I spoke, and without further words we went on towards the house. Nevertheless, the fervent handclasp and quiver in Haldane's voice were sufficiently eloquent. When we entered the house, where Mrs. Leyland took charge of Lucille, Haldane, asking very few questions, looked hard at me. "I shall not forget this service," he said quietly. "In the meantime get into some of Leyland's things as quickly as you can. We are going to pull the boat ashore under shelter of the island and requisition a wagon at Rideau's farm. I believe we can reach the others by an old lumbermen's trail."

It was in vain I offered my services as guide. Haldane would not accept them, and set out with the assistants whom, fearing some accident, he had brought with him, while I had changed into dry clothing when his daughter came in. What she had put on I do not know, but it was probably something of Mrs. Leyland's intended for evening wear; and, in contrast to her usual almost girlish attire, it became her. She had suddenly changed, as it were, into a woman. Her dark lashes were demurely lowered, but her eyes were shining.

"You are none the worse," I said, drawing out a chair for her; and she laughed a little.

"None; and I even ventured to appear in this fashion lest you should think so. I also wanted to thank you for taking care of me."

Lucille Haldane's voice was low and very pleasant to listen to, but I wondered why I should feel such a thrill of pleasure as I heard it.

"Shouldn't it be the reverse? You deserve the thanks for the way you helped me, though I am sorry it was necessary you should do what you did. Let me see your hands," I said.

She tried to slip them out of sight, but I was too quick and, seizing one, held it fast, feeling ashamed and sorry as I looked down at it. The hard ropes had torn the soft white skin, and the rim of the bucket or the coaming had left dark bruises. Admiration, mingled with pity, forced me to add: "It was very cruel. I called you child. You are the bravest woman I ever met!"

The damask tinge deepened a little in her cheeks, and she strove to draw the hand away, but I held it fast, continuing: "No man could have behaved more pluckily; but – out of curiosity – were you not just a little frightened?"

The lashes fell lower, and I was not sure of the smile beneath them. "I was, at first, very much so; but not afterwards. I thought I could trust you to take care of me."

"I am afraid I seemed very brutal; but I would have given my life to keep you safe," I said. "That, however, would have been very little after all. It is not worth much just now to anybody."

I was ashamed of the speech afterwards, especially the latter part of it, but it was wholly involuntary, and the events of the past few hours had drawn, as it were, a bond of close comradeship between my companion in peril and myself.

"I think you are wrong, but I am glad you have spoken, because I wanted to express my sympathy, and feared to intrude," she said. "We heard that bad times had overtaken you and your neighbors, and were very sorry. Still, they cannot last forever, and you will not be beaten. You must not be, to justify the belief father and I have in you."

The words were very simple, but there was a naïve sincerity about them which made them strangely comforting, while I noticed that Mrs. Leyland, who came in just then, looked at us curiously. I sat out upon the veranda until late that night, filled with a contentment I could not quite understand. To have rendered some assistance to Beatrice Haldane's sister and won her father's goodwill seemed, however, sufficient ground for satisfaction, and I decided that this must be the cause of it.

The rest of the party returned overland next day, and during the afternoon Haldane said to me: "I may as well admit that I have heard a little about your difficulties, and Leyland has been talking to me. If you don't mind the plain speaking, one might conclude that you are somewhat hardly pressed. Well, it seems to me that certain incidents have given me a right to advise or help you, and if you are disposed to let the mortgaged property go, I don't think there would be any great difficulty in finding an opening for you. There are big homesteads in your region financed by Eastern capital."

He spoke with sincerity and evident goodwill; but unfortunately Haldane was almost the last person from whom I could accept a favor. "I am, while grateful, not wholly defeated, and mean to hold on," I said. "Would you, for instance, quietly back out of a conflict with some wealthy combine and leave your opponents a free hand to collect the plunder?"

Haldane smiled dryly. "It would depend on circumstances; but in a general way I hardly think I should," he said. "You will, however, remember advice was mentioned, and I believe there are men who would value my counsel."

I shook my head. "Heaven knows what the end will be; but I must worry through this trouble my own way," I said.

Haldane was not offended, and did not seem surprised. "You may be wrong, or you may be right; but if you and your neighbors are as hard to plunder as you are slow to take a favor, the other gentlemen will probably earn all they get," he said. "I presume you have no objections to my wishing you good luck?"

It was the next evening when I met Beatrice Haldane beside the lake. "And so you are going back to-morrow to your cattle?" she said.

"Yes," I answered. "It is the one course open to me, and the only work for which I am fitted." And Miss Haldane showed a faint trace of impatience.

"If you are sure that is so, you are wise," she said.

Before I could answer she moved away to greet Mrs. Leyland, and some time elapsed before we met again, for I bade Leyland farewell next morning.

CHAPTER XII

THE SELLING OF GASPARD'S TRAIL

The surroundings were depressing when, one evening, Steel and I rode home for the last time to Gaspard's Trail. The still, clear weather, with white frost in the mornings and mellow sunshine all day long, which follows the harvest, had gone, and the prairie lay bleak and gray under a threatening sky waiting for the snow. Crescents and wedges of wild fowl streaked the lowering heavens overhead as they fled southward in endless processions before the frost. The air throbbed with the beat of their pinions which, at that season, emphasizes the human shrinking from the winter, while the cold wind that shook the grasses sighed most mournfully.

There was nothing cheering in the prospect for a man who badly needed encouragement, and I smiled sardonically when Steel, who pushed his horse alongside me, said: "There's a good deal in the weather, and this mean kind has just melted the grit right out of me. I'll be mighty thankful to get in out of it, and curl up where it's warm and snug beside the stove. Sally will have all fixed up good and cheerful, and the west room's a cozy place to come into out of the cold."

"You must make the most of it to-night, then, for we'll be camping on straw or bare earth to-morrow," I said. "Confound you, Steel! Isn't it a little unnecessary to remind me of all that I have lost?"

"I didn't mean it that way," said the other, with some confusion. "I felt I had to say something cheerful to rouse you up, and that was the best I could make of it. Anyway, we'll both feel better after supper, and I'm hoping we'll yet see the man who turned you out in a tight place."

"You have certainly succeeded," I answered dryly. "When a man is forced to stand by and watch a rascal cheat him out of the result of years of labor, you can't blame him for being a trifle short in temper, and, if it were not for the last expectation you mention, I'd turn my back to-morrow on this poverty-stricken country. As it is – "

"We'll stop right here until our turn comes some day. Then there'll be big trouble for somebody," said Steel. "But you've got to lie low, Ormesby, and give him no chances. That man takes everyone he gets, and, if one might say it, you're just a little hot in the head."

"One's friends can say a good deal, and generally do," I answered testily. "How long have you set up as a model of discretion, Steel? Still, though there is rather more sense than usual in your advice, doesn't it strike you as a little superfluous, considering that Lane has left us no other possible course?"

Steel said nothing further, and I was in no mood for conversation. Gaspard's Trail was to be sold on the morrow, and Lane had carefully chosen his time. The commercial depression was keener than ever, and there is seldom any speculation in Western lands at that time of the year. It was evidently his purpose to buy in my possessions.

A cheerful red glow beat out through the windows of my dwelling when we topped the last rise, but the sight of it rather increased my moodiness, and it was in silence, and slowly, we rode up to the door of Gaspard's Trail. Sally Steel met us there, and her eyelids were slightly red; but there was a vindictive ring in her voice as she said: "Supper's ready, and I'm mighty glad you've come. This place seems lonesome. Besides, I'm 'most played out with talking, and I've done my best to-day. Those auctioneering fellows have fixed up everything, but it isn't my fault if they don't know how mean they are. They finished with the house in a hurry, and one of them said: 'I can't stand any more of that she-devil.'"

"He did! Where are they now?" asked Steel, dropping his horse's bridle and staring about him angrily; but, after a glance at Sally, who answered my unspoken question with a nod, I seized him by the shoulder.

"Steady! Who is hot-headed now?" I said.

Steel strove to shake off my grasp until his sister, who laughed a little, turned towards him. "I just took it for a compliment, and there's no use in your interfering," she said. "I guess neither of them feels proud of himself to-night, and a cheerful row with somebody would spoil all the good I've done. They're camping yonder in the stable, but you'll tie up the horses in the empty barn."

Sally Steel was a stanch partisan, and, knowing what I did of her command of language, I felt almost sorry for the men who had been exposed to it a whole day in what was, after all, only the execution of their duty. Before Steel returned, one of them came out of the stable and approached me, but, catching sight of Sally, stopped abruptly, and then, as though mustering his courage, came on again.

"I guess you're Mr. Ormesby, and I'm auctioneer's assistant," he said. "One could understand that you were a bit sore, but I can't see that it's my fault, anyway; and from what we heard, you don't usually turn strangers into the stable."

The man spoke civilly enough, and I did not approve of his location; but the rising color in Sally's face would have convinced anybody who knew her that non-interference was the wisest policy.

"It is about the first time we have done so, but this lady manages my house, and, if you don't like your quarters, you must talk to her," I said.

The man cast such a glance of genuine pity upon me that it stirred me to faint amusement, rather than resentment, while the snap, as we called it on the prairie, which crept into Sally's eyes usually presaged an explosion.

"If that's so, I guess I prefer to stop just where I am," he said.

We ate our supper almost in silence, and little was spoken afterwards. Sally did her best to rouse us, but even her conversation had lost its usual bite and sparkle, and presently she abandoned the attempt. I lounged in a hide chair beside the stove, and each object my eyes rested on stirred up memories that were painful now. The cluster of splendid wheat ears above the window had been the first sheared from a bounteous harvest which had raised great hopes. I had made the table with my own fingers, and brought out the chairs, with the crockery on the varnished shelf, from Winnipeg, one winter, when the preceding season's operations had warranted such reckless expenditure. The dusty elevator warrant pinned to the wall recalled the famous yield of grain which – because cattle had previously been our mainstay – had promised a new way to prosperity, and now, as I glanced at it, led me back through a sequence of failure to the brink of poverty. Also, bare and plain as it was, that room appeared palatial in comparison with the elongated sod hovel which must henceforward shelter us at Crane Valley.

The memories grew too bitter, and at last I went out into the darkness of a starless night, to find little solace there. I had planned and helped to build the barns and stables which loomed about me – denied myself of even necessities that the work might be better done; and now, when, after years of effort and sordid economy, any prairie settler might be proud of them, all must pass into a stranger's hands, for very much less than their value. Tempted by a dazzling possibility, I had staked too heavily and had lost, and there was little courage left in me to recommence again at the beginning, when the hope which had hitherto nerved me was taken away. Steel and his sister had retired before I returned to the dwelling, and I was not sorry.

The next day broke gloomily, with a threat of coming storm, but, as it drew on, all the male inhabitants of that district foregathered at Gaspard's Trail. They came in light wagons and buggies and on horseback, and I was touched by their sympathy. They did not all express it neatly. Indeed, the very silence of some was most eloquent; but there was no mistaking the significance of the deep murmur that went up when Lane and two men drove up in a light wagon. The former was dressed in city fashion in a great fur-trimmed coat, and his laugh grated on me, as he made some comment to the auctioneer beside him. Then the wagon was pulled up beside the rank of vehicles, and the spectators ceased their talking as, dismounting, he stood, jaunty, genial, and débonnaire, face to face with the assembly.

Even now the whole scene rises up before me – the threatening low-hung heavens, the desolate sweep of prairie, the confused jumble of buildings, the rows of wagons, and the intent, bronzed faces of the men in well-worn jean. All were unusually somber, but, while a number expressed only aversion, something which might have been fear, mingled with hatred, stamped those of the rest. Every eye was fixed on the little portly man in the fur coat who stood beside the wagon looking about him with much apparent good-humor. Lane was not timid, or he would never have ventured there at all; but his smile faded as he met that concentrated gaze. Those who stared at him were for the most part determined men, and even with the power of the law behind him, and two troopers in the background, some slight embarrassment was not inexcusable.

"Good-morning to you, boys. Glad to see so many of you, and I hope you'll pick up bargains to-day," he said; and then twisted one end of his mustache with a nervous movement; when again a growl went up. It was neither loud nor wholly articulate, though a few vivid epithets broke through it, and the rest was clearly not a blessing. Several of the nearest men turned their backs on the speaker with as much parade as possible.

"Don't seem quite pleased at something," he said to me. "Well, it don't greatly matter whether they're pleased or not. May as well get on to business. You've had your papers, and didn't find anything to kick against, Ormesby?"

"It is hardly worth while to ask, considering your experience in such affairs. The sooner you begin and finish, the better I'll be pleased," I said.