Chapter 1

Chapter 14,044 wordsPublic domain

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Nancy MacIntyre

A Tale of the Prairies

Lester Shepard Parker

1910

_To My Wee Daughter RACHEL ELLEN PARKER this little story is affectionately inscribed_

CONTENTS

Billy's Revery The Quarrel The Disappointment The Decision The Search The Return Nancy's Story

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"I was takin' leave of Nancy Standin out there in the night" (Frontispiece)

"Then I dragged him on the prairie Through a Turk's Head cactus bed"

"I am standing by her dug-out, Open stands the sagging door"

"Bringing back a hat of water, Through the dim light and the rain"

"Loaded up their prairie schooner, And vamoosed the ranch, 'fore light"

"He was startled by a stranger's Sudden presence and 'Hello!'"

"Faithful Simon, weak and starving, Groaned and fell beneath his pack"

"Resting calm in fancied safety Sat the elder MacIntyre"

"Once again the twisted branches Of the lone and friendly tree"

"Fiercer with each flying moment Drove the scorching blasts of death"

"Standing there, a pictured goddess Sketched against a lowering storm"

"But, instead, I shot, to scare him, All the buttons off his coat"

BILLY'S REVERY

No use talking, it's perplexing, Everything don't look the same; Never had these curious feelin's Till those MacIntyres came. Quit my plowing long 'fore dinner, Didn't hitch my team again; Spent the day with these new neighbors, Getting 'quainted with the men. Talk about the prairie roses! Purtiest flow'rs in all the world, But they look like weeds for beauty When I think of that new girl. Strange, she seems so kind of friendly When I'm awkward, every way, And my tongue gets hitched and hobbled, Everything I try to say!

There's one person, that Jim Johnson, That there man I can't abide; He's been milling around near Nancy,-- Durn his dirty, yaller hide! Never really liked that Johnson; Now, each time I hear his name, Feel this state's too thickly settled,-- That is, since that new girl came. If this making love to women Went like breaking in a horse, I might stand some show of winning, 'Cause I've learned that game, of course; But this moonshine folks call 'courting,' I ain't never played that part; I can't keep from talking foolish When I'm thinking with my heart.

Now, those women that you read of In these story picture books, They can't ride in roping distance Of that girl in style and looks. They have waists more like an insect, Corset shaped and double cinched; Feet just right to make a watch charm, Small, of course, because they're pinched. This here Nancy's like God made her,-- She don't wear no saddle girth, But she's supple as a willow, And the purtiest thing on earth. I'm in earnest; let me ask you-- 'Cause I want to reason fair-- What durn business has that rope-necked Johnson sneaking over there?

Hands so soft and strong and tender, When I shook a "how de do," They was loaded sure with something Seemed to thrill me through and through; Hair as black as fire-burnt prairie; Eyes that dance and flash and flirt; Every time she smiled she showed you Teeth as white's my Sunday shirt. Baked us biscuits light as cotton; I can't eat mine any more,-- I must get some better breeches,-- Kind o' 'shamed of those I wore; But I'm goin' there to-morrow, Like enough I'll stay all day, Seems to me too dry for plowing-- Durn that Johnson, anyway!

I ain't much on deep-down thinkin', Reasoning out the way things go, So I s'pose I'll keep on foolin' Till in time I get to know. I've had chills and fever 'n' ague; Suffered till their course was run. Maybe love just keeps on runnin', Till a man has lost--or won. One thing certain: I have got it; Seems to struck in good and hard. Makes me sometimes soft and tender; Next thing I would fight my pard. Appetite is surely failing, Sometimes I don't eat a bite; Dream of Nancy all the daytime, That durn Johnson, half the night.

I've just got to get to plowin', Break a fire-guard 'round my shack, Plant my sod corn, fix my garden; Everything is goin' to rack. I can't work the way I used to; Got to quittin' early now, Since a little thing that happened, I can't just remember how. I was takin' leave of Nancy, Standin' out there in the night, And I put my arms around her-- Heart stopped beatin', just from fright. Can't express the kind of feelin',-- Words wa'n't never made for this,-- As I drew her face up closer, And I stole my first sweet kiss.

THE QUARREL

Things have moved along some smoother Since a week ago to-night, Seems my blood turned all to p'ison-- Me and Johnson had a fight. Caught him twice up there to Nancy's; Told him plain to stay away; But he didn't seem to notice Anything I had to say. Caught him settin' there and talkin' 'Bout the things that he had done-- Durndest liar on the prairie-- Laughing like he thought 'twas fun, Settin' there beside o' Nancy-- Settin' down is all he does, Good for nothin', bug-eyed, loafin', Wrinkled, yaller, meddlin' cuss!

I just let him keep on settin' All the whole long evenin' through; When he started off I follered, Told him what I meant to do. "Why," says he, "now, don't git foolish; I ain't skeered o' your light breeze; I'll go thar and set by Nancy, Spite o' you, when I blame please." Well, I don't just clear remember All the doin's that took place, But you'll know the story better If you'll look at Johnson's face. As we rode we clinched and wrestled, Then we tumbled to the ground, Tore the bunch grass up, and cactus, For a hundred yards around.

Got him down, and in the scrimmage Felt my lasso on the ground, Tied his legs and bent him over, Bound him like he's sittin' down; Hustled quick to mount my pony, Threw the loose end round the horn, Thought I'd learn that Mr. Johnson He'd missed out in bein' born. Then I dragged him on the prairie, Through a Turk's Head cactus bed, Prickly pears and shoestring bushes,-- 'Twasn't decent what he said. He's so dev'lish fond of settin', Thought I'd fix his settin' end So's he'd be more kinder careful Settin' by that girl again.

THE DISAPPOINTMENT

There's a feeling in my bosom, Like a hound that's lost the game, After chasing over bunch grass Till his feet are sore and lame. I am standing by her dug-out, Open stands the sagging door; Every grassblade speaks of Nancy, But she's gone, to come no more. For her father and her mother, And her brothers, late last night, Loaded up their prairie schooner, And vamoosed the ranch, 'fore light. 'Taint no use to stand here cussin', But my heart slumps down like lead When I think of losing Nancy And to know my dreams are dead.

It was here I held you, Nancy, When I showed you all my heart; When I told you I would always Be your friend and take your part. Oh, I thought that in life's lottery I had drawn the biggest prize, When I kissed you there that evening And looked down into your eyes; For I never had such feelin's Fill my hide clean through and through Such a hungry, starving longing, To be always close to you. But you've gone with all your family, And I'm left to mourn my loss, While the posse hunts your daddie, 'Cause he stole Bill Kelly's hoss.

Now, I don't know where you're roaming, And I don't know where'll you'll land; But I wish you knew my feelin's, And 'twas clear just how I stand: How the good Lord, high in heaven, Put a throbbing heart in here, But it starts to pumping backwards When it feels that you don't keer. I'm a roving old jay-hawker, Never caught like this before, But I'd give my last possession For a glimpse of you once more. If we lose your old fool father Folks 'round here can stand the loss, He was raised in old Missoura, Or he'd never stole that hoss.

When my mind gets to recalling All the happy times we had, Good red liquor and tobacco Gets to tasting kind o' bad. You remember on your birthday How I drove 'round kind o' late, And we went to Donkey Collins' To a dance, to celebrate? When you got up in my wagon, Bless my heart, you sure was sweet! You was bound that you'd go barefoot, 'Cause your new shoes hurt your feet. Well, I tell you, pretty Nancy, Every minute of that ride Seemed like floating through the heavens, 'Cause you set there by my side.

When we pulled up at old Collins', Quite a bunch was there before, You could hear the fiddler calling, And the scraping on the floor. Through the dingy sodhouse window Gleamed a sickly yellow light, Where I helped you from the wagon, Holding you so loving tight. Then they called out, "Choose your pardners, Numbers five, six, seven, and eight," And we hustled up to join in, For we knew that we were late. After starting up the music Something happened--you know what-- All because I loved you, Nancy, And their manners made me hot.

I just glanced around the circle, When we came to "Balance, all;" To that mess of cowhide-covered Feet that stomped at every call. Sure enough, the thing I looked for Come to pass when Aleck Rose Tried to _dos-a-dos_ by you, dear, And, instead, waltzed on your toes. Recollect? I stopped the fiddler, And I stopped that stomping crowd, Using language that was decent, But was mighty clear and loud: "Now, you fellers from the Sand Hills, Fight me, or if you refuse You don't dance with me and Nancy While a one of you wears shoes!"

Yes, they took them off, Miss Nancy, In respect for you and me, Putting all on equal footing, Just the way it ought to be. And we went through all the figures That we knew in that quadrille, But it didn't seem like dancin', Steppin' round so awful still. Fiddler, even, did his calling In a sort of quiet hush-- "Swing your pardners," "Back to places," "Sounds to me like paddlin' mush." "Man in center," "Circle round him," "All join hands," and "'Way you go," "Wait fur Betsy, she's in trouble, With a splinter in her toe."

When I took you home, towards morning, Such a night I never saw. How the Kansas wind was blowing! Swift and keen and kind o' raw. Blew more furious every minute, Blew a hole clear through the skies; Blew so loud, like demons hissing, That the moon was 'fraid to rise. Got so fierce it blew the stars out, Saw them flicker, then go dead, While the blackness, mad and murky, Rolled in thunder overhead. Goin' with it, durn my whiskers! Hind wheels riz plumb off the ground; Goin' 'gainst it, you and me, dear, Had to push the hosses down.

Now and then a raindrop whistled Like a bullet past my head; And I hollered out to you, dear, "Scrooch down in the wagon bed." Then they come as big as hen eggs; Struck the hosses stinging raps, Till the frightened, tremblin' critters Leaped beneath the angry slaps. Lord a'mighty, how they scampered! While I gripped the lines in tight, As the wagon box sailed upward Like a mighty wind-borne kite. Down below us ran the hosses, While we floated through the air, But through all that roaring shakeup, You, dear, never turned a hair.

When the lightning flashed around us, Rabbits stopped to let us by,-- Looked as if they said by halting, "We can't race with things that fly!" Coyotes sneaked off in the slough grass, Prairie dogs stayed in their holes; We was lubricated blazes,-- Couldn't stop to save our souls. Up the hills we flew like swallows, Down the slopes, a hurricane, Bumped and jumped the humps and hollows, Dragged the ground and riz again. And I prayed, "Dear Lord, save Nancy, For a desperate lover's sake!" You was hangin' to my gallus, And I felt it strain and break.

Felt you holdin' to my boot-leg, Slattin' in the roarin' gale, So, to save you, I worked for'ard, Got the nigh hoss by the tail. Miles on miles we tore on blindly, Had to let the critters roam, Till, at last, they turned their noses To the north, and towards their home. We went charging down a valley, Stopped in something soft and deep; Wagon box and you and me, dear, Landed in a mixed-up heap. Both the hosses' legs was buried And I knew that that was proof We had 'lighted on the top of Old Jim Davis's dug-out roof.

Now, old Jim was sleeping soundly Close beside his faithful wife; Peace had smoothed his savage wrinkles, All his dreams were free from strife. He was safe from ragin' cyclones, Wolves could never force his door, All the ills of life had vanished, On his mountain torrent snore. So when our descent awoke him Sitting bolt upright in bed, With the flying hoofs above him, Kicking hair off of his head, He aroused his sleeping helpmeet; Loud his curses and abuse, "Mary, hike your lazy carcass, Hell has turned the devil loose."

While ole Jim was shooting at us-- Couldn't make him understand; Kept his blamed old gun a-going Till he got me through the hand-- Not a whimper did you utter, But you grabbed the hosses' heads, Coaxed and helped them in their trouble, While they strove like thoroughbreds, Lunging, plunging, you stayed with them Till they both were clear and free. Riding one, you lashed them forward, Circled round and picked up me, Helped me mount, while Jim was loading; Then we struck off through the night, Right across the storm-swept prairie, Till the East was streaked with light.

I was faint and sick and dizzy, From my shattered, bleeding hand, And it seemed as if the jolting Gave me more than I could stand. Once I reeled, and would have fallen, If you hadn't held me there; Put your dear arm tight around me, Whispered, "Billy, don't you care." Then you headed straight for water, Threw the lines, dismounted first, Smoothed the grass down for my pillow, While the hosses quenched their thirst. Then you bathed my throbbing forehead,-- Love and healing in the touch,-- Sayin', "Billy, pardner, listen: That there shootin' wasn't much!"

From your skirt you tore a piece out, Dressed my wounds so neat and quick, That I felt the Lord had sent you Just to soothe and heal the sick. Bringing back a hat of water, Through the dim light and the rain, Thought I saw your face turn paler, Like you felt a twinge o' pain; But as you knelt down beside me I could hear you humming low Some mysterious song, stopped short by, "Billy, man, we sure must go!" And the sun turned loose his glory, Through the tempest-riven sky, Till it touched us like a blessing From the Father there on high.

I am standing by her dug-out; Open swings the sagging door, Every grassblade speaks of Nancy; But she's gone, to come no more, For her father and her mother, And her brothers, late last night, Loaded up their prairie schooner, And vamoosed the ranch, 'fore light. There's the bed poles and the stove hole; Not a thing is left for me, As a keepsake of my Nancy, Anywhere that I can see. What! a paper, pinned up yonder, Kind o' folded like a note! It has writin', sure as blazes! It is somethin' Nancy wrote.

"My dere billy, you will wunder Why I ever rote you this; I am sorry I am leevin Daddie needs me in his biz. I don't reely like this quiet Kind of sober farmer life; I like something allus doin, But for this, I'd be your wife. I got two of old Jim's bullets, Didn't like to let you know, Cause the one that you was luggin' Seemed to fret and hurt you so. Daddie cut them out that evenin; I don't mind a little such, But, dere billy, don't you worry, Old Jim's shootin wasn't much."

THE DECISION

Since that girl went off and left me, I can't plan just what to do. Saw Tom Frothingham this mornin', He says Johnson's gone off, too. My old mother used to tell me, When I lagged at any task, "Keep on working, do no shirking, You will bring the thing to pass." That advice has been my motto: Everything that I've begun, I've stayed with it, sick or weary, Till the job was squarely done. But this case is kind o' different; Though I ain't the kind that grieves, How you goin' to work that motto When the job gets up and leaves?

S'pose, in thinkin' and decidin', I refuse to do my part;-- Just sit down and let my mem'ry Finish breaking up my heart-- S'pose I give up like a coward, Let the world say I ain't game, 'Cause by leavin' I should forfeit My poor eighty-acre claim. I ain't 'fraid to do my duty If I'm clear what it's about, But this scrape is so peculiar That my mind's smoked up with doubt. I believe that Nancy loves me, And it may be she'll stay true; But I wonder why the blazes That durn Johnson's gone off too.

Blamed if I don't get my hosses, Saddle Zeb and lead old Si, And we'll search the wind-swept prairie Till we find that girl, or die! Who'd a thought a man's whole future Could get twisted up like this? All his plans burn up like tinder In the fire of one sweet kiss! "Zeb, come here, and good old Simon-- Listen while I talk to you; Put your noses on my shoulder While I tell you what we'll do. Your fool master's deep in trouble, Can't explain to you just how, But until we find my Nancy, You shall never pull a plow."

THE SEARCH

In the West, where twilight glories Paint with blood each sky-line cloud, While the virgin rolling prairie Slowly dons her evening shroud; While the killdeer plover settles From its quick and noisy flight; While the prairie cock is blowing Warning of the coming night-- There against the fiery background Where the day and night have met, Move three disappearing figures, Outlined sharp in silhouette. Zeb and Si and Bill, the lover, Chafing under each delay, Pass below the red horizon, Toward the river trail away.

Far across the upland prairie To the valley-land below, Where the tall and tangled joint-grass Makes the horses pant and blow, There the silent Solomon River Reaching westward to its source, With its fringe of sombre timber Guides the lover on his course. All the night he keeps his saddle, Urging Zeb and Simon on, Till the trail clears up before him In the gray of early dawn. Where it turns in towards the river, Arched above with vine-growth rank, He, dismounting, ties the horses Near the steep and treacherous bank.

More than light and shade and landscape Meet the plainsman's searching look, For the paths that lie before him Are the pages of his book. Stooping down and reading slowly, Noting every trace around, Of the travel gone before him, Every mark upon the ground, Down the winding, deep-cut roadway Furrowed out by grinding tire, Where the ruts lead to the water, In the half-dried plastic mire, He beholds the telltale marking Of an odd-shaped band of steel, Welded to secure the fellies Of old MacIntyre's wheel.

High above the wind is moaning In a lonely, fretful mood, Through the lofty spreading branches Of the elm and cottonwood. Where the willows hide the fordway With their fringe of lighter green, Is the dam, decayed and broken, Where the beavers once have been. On the sycamore bent o'er it, With its gleaming trunk of white, Sits the barred owl, idly blinking At the early morning's light, While, within its spacious hollow, Where the rotting heart had clung Till removed by age and fire, Sleeps the wild cat with her young.

Plunging through the sluggish water, Scarcely halting for a drink, Toiling through the sticky quagmire, They attain the farther brink. Here the trail leads to the westward,-- Once the redman's wild domain; Now the shallow rutted highway Of the settler's wagon train. Here and there along the edges, Paths work through the waving grass, Where at night from bluff to river, Sneaking coyotes find a pass. Here the meadow lark sings gaily As she leaves her hidden nest, While the sun of early morning Double-tints her orange breast.

Up this broad and fertile valley, Tracing all its winding ways, Plodding on with dogged patience Through a score of weary days, Camping in the lonely timber, Sleeping on the scorching plain, Bearing heat and thirst and hunger, Sore fatigue and wind and rain-- Halting only when the telltale Mark was missing in the track; Only when he called a greeting, As he passed some settler's shack; Till the valley and its timber Vanished, where the rolling sward Of the westward-sweeping prairie Marks the trail 'cross Mingo's ford.

Here for hours he searched the crossing And the wheel-ruts leading on To the north, a full day's journey, But the guiding mark was gone. Not a vestige here remaining Of the sign that could be told, For old Mac had traveled swiftly And the trail was mixed and old. Two whole days Bill searched and waited, Hoping for some other clew, Weighing questions of direction, Undecided what to do. Till, one night, while cooking supper By the camp-fire's genial glow, He was startled by a stranger's Sudden presence and "Hello!"

Tall of stature, dark of visage, By the wind well dried and tanned, Clad in "shaps" and spurs that jingled, With a bull whip in his hand. Close behind him in the shadows, Eyes aglow with red and green, Stood a blazed-face Texas pony, Ewe-necked, cat-hammed, wild, and mean. "Hello, stranger! glad to see you, Got my cattle fixed for night; Just got through, and riding round 'em, 'Cross the bluff, I saw your light. No, thanks, pardner, had my supper; Seems your fire is short o' wood; I just thought I'd see who's camped here-- Gee! that bacon does smell good!"

When the frugal meal was over, When the pipes were filled and lit, And the cowboy ceased his stories Weak in moral, rank in wit, Billy plied him long with questions, Wording each with thought and care, Lest his zeal for information Should reveal his mission there. "Tell me who you've seen go by here, Just within the last few days; What they had for teams and outfits; How the country round here lays. Have you seen a prairie schooner-- Old style freighter--pass this way? Both wheel hosses white-nosed sorrels, Lead team of a dun and gray?"

"I remember some such outfit, If I've got your idee right. Think they camped a mile below here Week ago last Thursday night. Pulled in sometime 'long 'bout sundown, Turned their stock in yonder draw, But an oldish sort of fellow Was the only one I saw; Rode a speckled chestnut pony With a white star in his face; Asked some questions 'bout the country, 'Bout the proper crossing-place. Pulled out sometime long 'fore daylight. Didn't see them when they passed, But from all the indications They was trav'ling pretty fast.