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Updated: June 5, 2025
He was leaning on a wheel now, surveying Ben and Betty with a critical, and somewhat disdainful, eye. For each was hanging upon three legs to rest a fourth. Presently, he glanced up at Marylyn, and his eye lit impudently. "Dunno," he repeated. "You're his girl. You ought to know." But Dallas did not hear him. She was scanning a page, closely written and addressed to herself.
Notwithstanding the long way, her vigour remained splendid. And when there came a tendency to lag, she fought it stoutly. Not until her limbs refused their service, did she drop down. Under her wild rye made a cool, stiff couch. She reached through it and dug her fingers into the wet earth. Marylyn toppled over back and lay beside her, prone. Charley leaned on an elbow, breathing hard, watching
Behind was a reddish follower that lowed in protest of the speed. When the mules came by, Dallas was standing at the dashboard, plying the lash. Her face was ashen, her eyes were hollow. She did not see the Indian, for her gaze was upon the shack. He swung himself into the rattling box. There lay Marylyn, still in the grasp of the stupor that had bound them, brain and body, through the night.
He put his load down gently; then, unbidden, rushed through the door for Brannon. When Captain Oliver arrived, with Fraser, a surgeon and a detachment of mounted men, Dallas was seated in the doorway, rocking Marylyn against her breast. She looked up, dry-eyed, as he hurried to her. "What'd they do it for?" she asked him, brokenly. "How could they hurt you, dad?
But I didn't believe he'd get here so soon, I " "I'd given him up," she said. "You! You did know, then!" "Quite a while ago." "Knew what?" asked Marylyn, stopping her tears. Then, certain that there was some awful secret behind it all, and that it was being kept from her, she began to cry again. Dallas soothed her, and explained. "Do you know when Matthews' six months is up?" Lounsbury inquired.
Presently, Marylyn turned. The elder girl hastened to soothe her. Then, their father yawned. Dallas feigned sleep. But the evil moment could not be put off. Lancaster propped himself on an elbow and called to her. He was hungry. Very quietly, Dallas told him that there was no food. He grunted, arose and lighted the lantern. "You dish thet snow on th' floor," he commanded.
"And if they do, a shot'll bring help." He was in the doorway, now. "W'y," he cried, "here's thet fool Norwegian goin' t' th' landin'. Wal, he is pritty shy on sand!" "We'll be killed if the Indians come, Dallas." It was Marylyn, whispering up fearfully to her sister. "We'll be careful, honey. Keep away from the coulée after this. Walk toward Brannon, always."
Again, he considered what course to pursue. Granted the family knew all he could tell them, what would be gained by forcing the fact of his knowledge upon them? Nothing unless it were more suspicion against himself. And if they were in ignorance well, it was better than premature care. As before, he decided to remain silent and depend upon the pilot. He glanced at Marylyn.
Oliver's idea; rose-berries all over the mantel Marylyn did that; I stuffed the fireplace full of sumach; then, Michael sprinkled and swept out, and we covered the floor with Navajo blankets." "Little place looked cosey." "Cosey as could be." A little while, and Fraser sprang up. "They're there!" he cried. "See? see? They're home!" Far away on the bend, the eyes of the shack were bright.
Lancaster's grumbling lessened, and he helped to plant some boxes with cabbage and tomato seed that the "sutler" supplied. Marylyn, coaxed out for an hour or two daily, rewarded Dallas with smiles. And when she held the looking-glass before her, she saw a faint colour in her cheeks. To Dallas, the spring brought renewed courage and a vague longing.
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