Chapter 3

Chapter 33,445 wordsPublic domain

From these high and broken hilltops He could trace the river's flow, And the creek's untamed meandering, With its looplike bend below, Seeming in the light of evening Like a giant serpent there, Which had coiled about its victim, And lay resting in its lair. Breaking through the tangled brushwood As the night was coming on, Creeping down the steep embankment Where the muddy waters run, Billy crossed within the timber Where the shroud of deeper gloom, And its chilling breath of darkness Marked the hidden prairie tomb.

As the soul in deep communion, Seeks some isolated bower Where the body's sordid cravings Yield beneath the spirit's power, So the searcher, bowed in reverence, Left untouched his evening fare As he listened to the voices Of the shadows gathering there. Here no lighted torch or camp fire With its weak and fitful ray, Could illume the mystic journey Of prayer's consecrated way. Here the silence brought its message Of forebodings, vague and deep, In its visions to the dreamer, Through the mystery of sleep.

In his dreams he saw a monarch Decked in sumptuous array, Seated on a throne of glory, Bearing royal title, Day. Then some mighty power transcendent, Thrust him from his gorgeous throne, Turning all the realm to darkness, And the world was left alone. As the shades of gloom were spreading, By strange flashing threads of light He beheld in dim-drawn outline, On the background of the night, Phantom horse and girlish rider, Speeding on in reckless race, Till she turned directly toward him And he saw her fearless face.

Then, behold! the King returning With a pageantry so bright, That the shadow-clad usurpers Fled in ignominious fright. As he saw the hosts approaching Through a cloud of battle smoke, Charging wildly down upon him, He, in sudden fear, awoke. As he looked, the blackened heavens Splashed with demon-tinted blood From the hue of burning prairie Throbbed above the fiery flood. Leaping o'er the rounded bluff-tops, Down the valley's long incline, He could see the lurid column Spread its blazing battle line.

Like a troop of charging horsemen Sweeping on with maddened roar, Mowing down the grass battalions, Crackling flames swept all before. Then the driftwood's rifted breastwork, Left there by the waters high, Flashed up in a hissing furnace, As the red-armed fiends leaped by. Clinging to the swaying saddle And the plunging horse's mane, Billy dashed through falling embers To the level, open plain. On the right and left, the head fires Rushing on at furious pace, Stretched beside the horse and rider In the life-and-death-fought race.

Here the gale with venomed fury Met in vortex from afar, Raising high the flaming pennons Of the fiery fiends of war. Flashing by, the blazing grass stems Sped like arrows through the air, Falling on the distant prairie, Kindling fresh fires everywhere. Pressing through the low-flung smoke clouds-- Stifling fumes of Hades' breath-- Fiercer with each flying moment Drove those scorching blasts of death. Thrice his horse, 'neath quirt and rowel Bravely struggling, almost fell, As he fled in desperation O'er the trail that led through hell.

One poor singed and panting coyote Through the perils of the ride Hemmed in by the flames pursuing Ran close by the horse's side. Scarce a meager pace behind them, Pressing hard the coyote's rear, Raced a frantic old jack rabbit, Ears laid low in speed and fear. Reaching now a stretch of upland, Here the coyote changed his course, Breaking through the narrow side-fire, Followed fast by hare and horse; And, upon the smoking prairie Over which the fire had passed, Steaming horse and stricken rider Found a breathing space at last.

When the morning sun in splendor Rose upon the blackened plain, His red beams revealed the lover Back at Old Man's Bend again. Waist deep in its soothing waters Bathing blistered brow and hands; While near by, in pain a-tremble, Faithful Zeb impatient stands. Through the bend he searched and wandered, But except the furrowed bark, Of a gnarled and aged elm tree Which revealed one bullet-mark, Naught was left save blackened embers; And the words he "knew in part"-- "Dust to dust and then to ashes"-- Told the story of his heart.

Back along the Solomon River, Trailing towards the humble claim He had lost when love and duty Fired his soul to "being game"; Back, across the beaver fordway, Where love first had found the track, Now returning with the rankling Sting of hate to bring him back-- Hate, that hunger made more bitter When his last jerked beef was gone; Climbing trees to cut off branches For his horse to browse upon; Back, where once the flower-decked prairie, Spread its bloom of hope and bliss, Now a blackened field of mourning, From the fire of one sweet kiss.

Till one day, he saw beyond him, In the distance, purple crowned, That old monarch of the prairie, Guard of ages, North Pole Mound. Then the field where Zeb and Simon Pulled the old sod-breaking plow Stretching like a narrow ribbon On the land that lay below. Now the horse's steps grew lighter As he passed each well-known sign Of the old familiar landscape, And they crossed the eighty's line, Where the spring of running waters Gave envenomed purpose birth, As he drank its bubbling offering From the pulsing heart of earth.

Then, ascending from the hollow, Full before his eyes appeared Home--his home--the low-walled sodhouse Which his toiling hands had reared. Near the straw shed stood the wagon He had brought from Wichita, And beneath the grass-fringed gable Hung his trusty crosscut saw. In the dooryard, near the window, Lay the broken homemade chair, Where, at evening, love-born fancies Revelled, as he rested there; Love, whose scattered seed had fallen On a mystic field of fate, Where the tangled vine extending Bore the bitter fruit of hate.

Hurrying nearer, he dismounted, Trembling with the rage he felt, As he cast aside the bridle And drew taut his cartridge belt. Throwing down his torn sombrero, There, before the tight-closed door, On the cowardly usurper Loud and bitter vengeance swore. "Come, you dirty, green-scummed scoundrel, With your sneaking 'plan or two'! Just come out, you rope-necked buzzard! See how far you'll put them through. You can keep the eighty acres, Hell will write your pedigree, But I'll rub your crooked nose-piece In the dirt you stole from me.

"Come outside, you sneaking coyote! If you've got a drop of man In your greasy, thieving carcass, Finish up what you began." Fiercer grew his coarse invective, Louder yet his taunting calls, When no answer to his challenge Came from out the low sod walls. Uncontrolled, his furious anger Spoke in quick and murderous roar As he pumped his old six-shooter Through the barred and bolted door. When he paused the rude door opened, And before its splintered place Stood the vision of the shadows, And he saw Her fearless face.

As the artist in his painting Plans the background to enhance All the beauty of his subject Both in pose and countenance, So the poor and dark interior Lent its gloom to magnify All the power and witching beauty Of her face and lustrous eye. Standing there, a pictured goddess Sketched against a lowering storm, Bearing on her pallid features That supernal gift of calm.

"Nancy! Woman! God in heaven, Speak, girl! Can this thing be true? Are you here with that--that scoundrel, After all that I've gone through? Do you stand there, fiend or human, After lending him your hand, First to break an honest spirit, Then to steal away my land? Must a man who loves a woman Like a devil's imp be driven Through the tortures of damnation For a single glimpse of heaven? Tell me where the cur is hiding-- I've no wish to hurt his bride, But I'll braid a twelve-foot bull whip From his dirty, yaller hide!

"Speak to me and tell me, woman, How the God in heaven above Starts the fires of hell a-burning From a spark of human love; Why He ever made a woman Who could play a fickle part; Why He ever made a fellow With his soul tied to his heart; Why He made life just a gamble-- I can't talk the way I feel-- In the game that I've been playing, You know this ain't no square deal! I will go away and leave you, But 'twould kind o' ease the pain If you'd only tell me, Nancy-- If you'd try--to--just explain.

"If you wouldn't stand there looking With a face of livid white Like the specter of the prairie That I saw one horrid night, Riding through the endless darkness Like a being doomed from birth Just to roam outside of heaven And denied a place on earth. Say one word to me! Speak, Nancy, If you have a voice and live! Tell the worst, e'en though you ask me To be patient and forgive. I will listen--I will suffer-- I will do the best I can; Nancy, sweetheart! hear the pleading Of a broken-hearted man,"

"See here, Billy! You gone crazy? Charging like you got a fit? Johnson ain't in--just at present-- Won't you stop and rest a bit? Don't act strange. There's no hard feelings, Though I've never seen before Any man that knocked like you did On a peaceful neighbor's door. Come right in; now, don't be backward, Like old times to have _you_ 'round! You look tired, like you'd traveled Over quite a stretch of ground. Sit right here in this old rocker; Johnson fixed it up one day, Feeling certain you would never Come meandering 'round this way.

"Don't get up and act uneasy, Rest yourself, now, if you can, You don't mind me like Jim Johnson-- He's a most obedient man. You went off and left your eighty, Roaming where the luck-wind blows, Like a tumbleweed in winter, Where you've been, Lord only knows. While Jim's gone we'll talk together, As we used to, months ago, When I tried to quench the burning Of a love I didn't know. Listen, Billy, while I tell you All about my 'fickle part'; When I'm done you may know better How God made a woman's heart.

"While you're resting, I'll get supper, Though there ain't much here to eat, 'Cepting bran, to make some muffins, And a little rabbit meat. Wish I had that pinch of coffee I saved up for--oh, so long, Till one day I went and used it, Though I somehow felt 'twas wrong; For I kind o' thought that sometime Some one might be coming here Worn out with a long, long journey, And would crave that kind o' cheer. Now, then, Billy, draw your stool up; What we've got is scant and plain-- I ain't hungry--honest--Billy, While you eat--why--I'll 'explain.'"

NANCY'S STORY

"I went off and left you, Billy, 'Cause I'm used to being free, And I love my dear old daddie-- He has been so good to me. Ever since I learned to toddle We've been living on the run, And my first and only playthings Were a saddle and a gun. When I went away with daddie, After trav'ling nigh a week, We were caught up by the posse In the bend on Old Man's Creek. Think I'd let them take my daddie? No: I held them all at bay, While the boys hitched up the horses, Crossed the creek and got away.

"I just told them I would follow After all the fuss was through, But instead, all night I wandered, Thinking all the time of you; For when we were last together You cast over me a spell That just seemed to change my nature, In a way that words can't tell; For it left a fire a-burning Like a live and glowing coal, That at length blazed into longing Till I craved with all my soul To be back, somehow, where you were, And to hear you tell once more That you loved me. That man-story I had never heard before.

"Then I trailed back o'er the prairie, Riding steady every night, Picking out the wildest country With my luck to guide me right. When I'd see the hungry morning Eat the stars up in the East, I would hide in gulch or timber Like a wild and hunted beast. How I learned to love the darkness As it spread its mighty arm, Close around me, like a lover, Fondly shielding me from harm! And I knew the sweet caresses Of the earth and sky above, As the night's mysterious voices Soothed me with their tale of love.

"Then I'd ride like forty devils Just to catch upon my face All the kisses which the tempest Pressed upon me in the race. How I thought of poor old daddie, Whom, perhaps, I'd see no more If I went clear back to your place, While he hurried on before! I could hardly bear the burden When I'd think of--both of you; But that fire you set a-burning, One night told me what to do-- I would see and ask you, Billy, If you wouldn't go with me Where we both could be with daddie, Way out West, where he must be.

"Then at last the night that loved me, Turned its pent-up furies loose, Roaring out on me its anger And unpitying abuse. How the rain beat down upon me! How the lightning burned its track Through the clouds of storm and thunder As I reached your sod-walled shack! All was dark within, and quiet, When I rapped upon the door. Then I saw the flash of matches And the lamplight on the floor; Heard you stomp your heavy boots on, Heard you walk and draw the bar, But the door, when thrown wide open, Showed Jim Johnson standing thar.

"'What you doing here?' I shouted, When I saw his hateful leer; 'Tell me what this means, Jim Johnson. Where is Billy? Ain't he here?' He was standing on the doorstep, And the light that shone within Seemed to twist his wrinkled features In a sort of wonder-grin. 'Well! well! Nancy! sure's I'm livin'! Out there in the pouring wet! Sure I'll care for you, Miss Nancy, I'll protect you, don't you fret! I'm a friend that you can count on, Does me good to see your face! Come in, gal, and dry your garments, You have struck the very place!'

"You don't blame me, do you, Billy, If I did go in and stay, Warming by your stove and fire, Just to hear what he would say? I will try to tell his story As he told it, if I can, Putting in what I remember Of his 'interesting plan.' 'Now, then, gal, I heard you calling As you stood there in the dark, On a fellow, named Bill Truly, But you shot 'way off the mark. Billy ain't here now, and further, He won't be here, you can bet; Anyhow, that's what he told me Two weeks past, when we last met.

"'When your folks all skipped the country I decided I'd move, too; Thought perhaps you'd get in trouble And I'd try to help you through; So I got beyond the posse, Rode like fire upon your track, Found your dad, and _you_ not with him, So I turned and came right back. Riding home along the Solomon,-- For the truth I pledge my word-- I met Billy with his horses Three miles east of Mingo's Ford. Stopped and shook my hand and told me He was so far on his way To a ranch 'way up in Utah, Where he'd made his plans to stay.

"'Said he wanted to be friendly, So the things that he had left, If I cherished no hard feelings, I could look on as his gift. "If you come across Miss Nancy You can say to her for me, That I've got another sweetheart, And that she is wholly free." Billy'd never do to tie to-- He's too fickle, gal, for you-- So I just propose to offer You a man that will stay true. I have worked it out, Miss Nancy-- It's the problem of my life; I have planned that you shall stay here As my own dear little wife.'

"'Look here, Johnson! You're a liar, When you say he's set me free! When you met him there at Mingo's He had gone to hunt for me. Don't you dare to touch me, scoundrel! Don't you dare to slur his name! You're a cur--a thief--Jim Johnson! You have jumped my sweetheart's claim. Don't you dare to venture near me! Or you'll wish you'd not begun. All your schemes and double dealings, All your hatched-up plans are done. You start now and pack your fixin's! Don't you leave the smallest bit! Every filthy thing you own here, Pack it up--you dog, and _git!_'

"He was standing there uncertain, And I felt to clinch his throat; But, instead, I shot--to scare him-- All the buttons off his coat. Then I pumped two in the corner, Where he'd sunk down on his knees-- Slit his ear and cut his collar, Never listening to his pleas. Told him if he didn't mosey I would plant his carcass whole, In a grave I'd dig that evening On the eighty he had stole. Then he promised, but I chased him 'Way across the old Saline, And so far as I have knowledge, He has never since been seen.

"When I got back here 'fore morning, Thought of having Kelly's mare, So I rode her to his stable And I left her standing there. For I knew that you'd consider Twas the proper thing to do, If you came back here and found me Holding down your claim for you. But I felt right sorry, Billy, When I looked around next day, In the box there in the corner Where the pans and dishes lay; For in fixing for my breakfast, My! the crockery was slim! More than half of it was busted By the bullets fired at Jim:

"I forgot to tell you, Billy, That for thirteen months or more, You're the only man that's ever Crossed the threshold of that door. I have stayed alone and waited, Full of faith that you would come, So that I--might go to daddie, And that you'd--have back your home. Though perhaps I've sometimes suffered From the cold and from the heat, And I've gone for days together, Here, without a bite to eat, 'Twasn't hunger of the body That I craved to satisfy, I was starved for--you--and daddie, As the weary weeks trailed by.

"How I tried to think and reason Why the fire from one caress Turned my burning, yearning spirit To a cinder of distress. Some one told me, I remember, Long ago when I was small, God made every star up yonder, Everything--the world and all. Then I thought that in His workshop, Up there in the heavens above, He had made that curious hunger Of the heart that we call love. P'r'aps my troubles and the waiting Stirred me to this queer-like whim; But I couldn't help it, Billy, I just had to talk to Him.

"In the night, when God wa'n't busy And could hear the slightest sound, I would venture from my hiding To the top of North Pole Mound. I was sure He'd never let His Angels come out this-a-way, But would use the wind to carry, Prayers out here, that people pray. So I'd hold my hands, and stopping Gusts that tried to struggle free, Tell them this here simple message They must take to you from me: 'Please, dear God, won't you tell Billy That I'm holding down his claim? He don't come 'cause he's in trouble. Thank you, God. He ain't to blame.'"

Long before her honest story Faltered to its hallowed close, Pushing back his untouched supper, Tremblingly her guest arose. Vain for him to curb emotion, Or to stammer out his praise Through a storm of rude devotion, Cast in halting human phrase. Vain for him to frame a message Never meant for words to tell, At the joy of reaching heaven By that trail that led through hell. But his fervent benediction Was a passionate embrace, And the Amen love's own ending, As he kissed her fearless face.