The Frontier Angel: A Romance of Kentucky Rangers' Life

There was a wildness in her look which, despite himself, made Peterson restless and ill at ease, although he took occasion to show by his words and manner that he had no such thoughts. The girl stared at him a moment, and then asked:

"You do not want to kill me, then, do you?"

"No; I wouldn't do no such thing, and I would raise the ha'r of the man that tried it, if he was my own brother."

"He tried to; he shot at me, and chased me with his knife."

"Who did so?"

"That bad man; he is hunting now for me, and wants to kill me."

"Who do you mean? McGable?"

"Yes, it was he – he nearly killed me."

"He may kill you yet. Won't you go with me where he can't hurt you?"

"Oh, no – no – I live alone, and God will take care of me."

She turned to depart, and Peterson, who all the time had felt fidgety and nervous, was glad to be alone, when it suddenly occurred to him there were several questions which he must yet ask, to gain the desired information for Abbot and Mansfield. So he called her back.

"Say, will you let me ax you a thing or two?"

She answered by turning around and silently facing him.

"You know McGable in course, and must know he's the all-firedest varmint that tramps. Wal, last spring he and a lot of Shawnees attacked a flat-boat, and sliced 'em all up 'cepting the best-looking one of the lot – him as is squatted afore you. Wal, that ain't much to do with the matter, 'cept to illusrate the point. There was a gal on board – that I tried to jump overboard with, but she got shot just as I was ready, and I left her behind. She wan't dead then, but about so. Howsumever, her folks never'll be satisfied till they know all about it. Might be you've heard of the gal?"

"No," replied the Frontier Angel, shaking her head with a pensive, saddened look.

"S'pect you did. Sorry, 'cause I'd like to find out. Never heard McGable say nothin' 'bout her?"

"No."

"Qu'ar. Oh! is that renegade your husband?"

The maiden simply gave him a wondering stare without making a further reply. Now that Peterson was fairly started, he determined to learn all he could of her.

"The name of the gal was Marian Abbot," observed the ranger, suddenly recollecting that he had not mentioned her name. As he uttered it, his heart fairly stopped beating, at the manner of the mysterious being before him. She started, her dark eyes opening so strangely, and her breath coming so short and gaspingly, that Peterson averred he felt his hair lift his coon-skin cap clean from his head.

"Marian Abbot – Marian Abbot – Marian," she repeated, as if communing with herself, and gazing, not at Peterson, but over his head, far away into the horizon where the purple and golden clouds were then blazing with the fire of heaven.

"Yes, that was her name," said Peterson anxious to help her. "Splendid looking gal – looked some like me – little shorter than you – purty near as good looking."

"Marian Abbot – Marian Abbot," she still repeated, drawing her hand over her forehead as if engaged in intense thought.

"Yes – I've told you that was her name."

"Have I heard of her, you ask? Have I heard of Marian Abbot? – no – yes – let me see – I remember. I saw her – no I know nothing of her!" she replied, dropping her hands from her forehead, and looking up at him with the same wild, fiery look.

"Think agin," urged Peterson, much disappointed at her manner. "You jest now said you remembered her. Put your thinkin' cap on and p'r'aps you'll find out arter all."

"No; I can't remember anything. Don't ask me to, for it hurts my head so much. Wait a moment – " she said, pressing her hand quickly to her temple again. "Marian Abbot – yes – there was such a girl – I remember her —I saw her among the Indians!– "

At this point, she turned deadly pale, and sank to the earth. That singularly foolish notion, that it was fatal to touch the Frontier Angel, prevented Peterson from springing forward to her assistance. She did not faint, however, but instantly recovered herself and bounded away in the wood without uttering another syllable.

This information, conveyed in substance, to the breathless listeners, by the ranger, thrilled every one, as we said, to the heart. It awakened, both in the father and Mansfield, a strange hope, that, from its every intensity, produced a deadly heart-sickness. Abbot reeled to his home, where, for a long time, he strove to control his agitation. He said nothing to his wife, for he was nearly unmanned, and feared he should turn crazy himself.

"O merciful Father! can my daughter be alive? Did she escape that awful massacre? Is this a dream? Am I going mad? Oh, grant that no hope may be awakened to be dashed from me again!"

Mansfield was equally excited. The cold sweat came upon his face, and it seemed as if his heart stood still, and could never recover its power. It is difficult to conceive of a keener torment – a more excruciating agony than that which is produced by the awakening – the sudden bringing to life of a long-buried hope. The extremes of joy and pain are the same, but the culminating point of the latter is reached, when doubt – almost and yet not quite uncertainty– is a part of the former. It is impossible for a human being to quietly bear it. Relief must be found in some direction, or the sufferer's reason will flee.

The painful affliction of Abbot and his wife was known to the entire settlement, and they had the heartfelt sympathy of every one. It was believed by all that the wife was dying of a broken heart. She was silent and remained at home, seeking the society of no one. She had become pale and fearfully emaciated, seeming resigned and anxious for the death that was so fast approaching. Her only desire was to rejoin her sainted child, where no murderer's hand could ever separate them.

After the father had, in some degree, regained command of himself, he passed out of the house again, without speaking to his wife, and made his way back to where a knot of the settlers were discussing the all-absorbing question. Here he found with painful joy– for those two words express exactly his emotion – that the belief was quite general that Marian might possibly be alive and a prisoner among the Indians.

"I tell you it won't be the fust time such a thing has happened," remarked Dingle impressively, "there's no tellin' what capers them Shawnees are up to. In course, there's a powerful heap of chances that the gal has gone under, but h'yer's as thinks it ain't noways onpossible that the gal is kickin' yet. Now, Jim Peterson, tell the truth for once; is you sartin that gal died when you dropped her on the boat? Mind you're on your oath."

"No, by the eternal, I don't know she is dead, though I'd swear to it, on the Bible this minute."

"Wall, sir, h'yer's is goin' to the Shawnee towns and findin' out whether that gal is livin'."

"But," persisted Abbot, who seemed determined to receive no false basis for his hope, "how can she be there? Have you not been to all the towns, and had an opportunity of judging. You certainly would have heard of her before this time."

"No; I don't know as I would. Them Shawnees ar' all the time up to such tricks that no one can begin to keep track of 'em. Freeze me, and Lord bless you, man, I don't want to make you think I am going to find your gal for you and then have her dead all the time. You must be ready for disappointment."

"I am ready for anything, I trust," faintly replied Abbot, who felt that he could not survive such a cruel dashing of the cup of hope from his lips.

CHAPTER XIII.

DARK

The excitement in relation to the Frontier Angel and the lost Marian, was greatly increased by two circumstances, that occurred on the day following the return of Peterson. It had been determined, as the reader has already learned, by Dingle, that he should start to the Shawnee towns in search of tidings of Marian. In this dangerous undertaking it was agreed that Peterson should join him. The latter, having undergone considerable toil and fatigue, was compelled to remain over night by the commander, in order to be prepared for what was before him.

Shortly after the sun had risen, and while the two scouts were preparing to start upon their expedition, the sentinel on the platform of the block-house reported an Indian canoe visible, far up the Ohio. The scouts including Abbot, Mansfield, Jenkins, and several others instantly ascended the platform to view the suspicious object. It was at a great distance – so great that it resembled a duck, or something similar, slowly swimming the river. It was not crossing, as first supposed, but coming down stream, and would if it continued, pass by the settlement.

"Hello!" exclaimed Dingle, "there comes another one right behind it. What does that mean? Looks qu'ar I declar'."

Our friends continued gazing at the two canoes now visible with an intense interest. The last one had just rounded a bend in the river, and followed in the wake of the first. Whether it was in pursuit or not was impossible to tell at the great distance; but, if so, their progress was so similar, that they seemed like moving automata, connected with each other under the water, and propelled by the same power. They kept the center of the current, in a direct line with each other, and moved steadily and rapidly as could be easily seen even at the distance they were away. They did not swerve a foot from a straight line, as seemingly anxious were they to hurry forward.

"Can't you make anything of it?" asked Mansfield.

"I can see their paddles shinin' in the water," replied Dingle, "and – I – think – " he added, speaking slowly with his eyes fixed upon the canoes – "I think – yes, – I know there is only one in the first boat and there is – yes, two in the last. It is a race, sure as thunder!" he exclaimed, standing and looking around upon the others.

"Perhaps only a friendly one, between a couple of Indian canoes," suggested Abbot.

"We don't have such races on the 'Hio this time of year," replied the ranger with a quiet smile.

It was certainly singular that the same suspicion should enter the heads of all at the same time, and yet not one mention it, until it grew into a certainty. All continued watching the canoes, until it was evident that one person was pursued by a couple, and that the race was a most determined one upon both sides.