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"I think plenty wire all fold up neat in prop-room. Wagalexa Conka, he all time clean this studio from trash lie around everywhere." "He does, hey?" Applehead's sunburnt mustache bristled like the whiskers of Compadre when he was snarling defiance at the little black dog. The feud was asserting itself. "Well, this here danged place ain't no studio! It's a ranch, and it b'longs to ME, Nip Furrman.
And just beyond the corner out of sight but well within hearing, Annie-Many-Ponies stood flattened against the wall and listened with fast-beating pulse for the sound of her name, spoken in the loved voice of Wagalexa Conka. She, the daughter of a chief and Luck's sister by tribal adoption would he not miss her: from among those others who welcomed him?
"Poco tiempo, come to his camp, Ramon," he said when the sun was peering over the high shoulder of a ridge; and he spoke in a hushed tone, as if he feared that someone might overhear him. "You 'fraid Wagalexa Conka, he come?" Annie-Many-Ponies asked abruptly, looking at him full. Luis did not understand her, so he lifted his shoulders in the Mexican gesture which may mean much or nothing.
I make big punch for you. Pete turn camera." "You've got more nerve than I have, Annie," Jean told her good-naturedly as she went by. "I'd hate to run a horse down there bareback." "I go where Wagalexa Conka say." From the corner of her eye she saw the quick frown of jealousy upon the face of Ramon, and her pulse gave an extra beat of triumph.
My father go, my mother go, all us go. We work long time. I," she added with naive pride in her comeliness, "awful good looking. I do lots of foreground stuff. Pretty soon hard times come. Indians go home by reservation. I go I don't like them reservations no more. Too lonesome. I like for work all time in pictures. I come, tell Wagalexa Conka I be Indian girl for pictures.
That time Wagalexa Conka boss of Indians. He Indian Agent. He take care whole bunch. He make peace when fights, he give med'cine when somebody sick. He awful good to them Indians. He give me candy, always stop to talk me. I like him. My father like him. All them Indians like him plenty much. My father awful sick one time, he no let doctor come. Leg broke all in pieces.
"Wagalexa Conka, here is plenty hot coffee," came a soft voice at his elbow, and Luck turned with a smile to take the steaming cup from the hand of Annie-Many-Ponies. The Native Son poured a cup and offered it to Tomas Chavez. "Quire cafe?" he asked. "Si, señor; Gracias." Tomas smiled, and took the cup and bowed.
So with her eyes fixed upon the letter, her mind stared trance-like at the vision of that long-ago day which had been to her so wonderful. Then Wagalexa Conka looked at her and smiled, and the vision of the store and the slim, barefooted papoose with her doll vanished.
She could not understand, last night she had been glad at the thought of going, and if the thought of leaving Wagalexa Conka so treacherously had hurt like a knife-thrust, still, she had sworn willingly enough that she would go. The horse was there, saddled and tied in a tumble-down shed just as Ramon had promised that it would be. Annie-Many-Ponies did not mount and ride on immediately, however.
She twined flowers in her hair and smoothed out the red bows and laid them carefully away since Wagalexa Conka did not wish her to wear ribbon bows in this picture. She murmured caresses to Shunka Chistala, the little black dog that was always at her heels. She rode with the company to the rocky gorge which was "location" for today.
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