Nancy MacIntyre Part 5

30

"We had jest unhitched the hosses, Nance was riding Kelly's mare, When we heard them all a-comin'-- They had seen us pull in there.

Nancy said,' I'll hold 'em, daddie, Get the outfit over here, And I'll trail you in the mornin'; I will see they don't get near.'

It was in that heavy timber-- Growing dark and spittin' rain-- Where the creek runs to the eastward, Makes that loop, and back again.

We was in a reg'lar pocket; Creek banks made a kind of bluff All around us, so it looked like We was trapped there, sure enough.

31

"Wal, we had a time in movin'; Things got mixed up in the rush; Lead team broke a piece of harness Pulling through the underbrush.

Then the wagon turned clean over, But we drug her plumb across, Hitched with ropes and other fixin's, Usin' every extra hoss.

Wal, you never heard such shootin', Bullets whizzin' everywhere; Pumped 'em on us till it sounded Like they had an army there.

Nancy stayed and cracked it to 'em, Kind o' circlin' round and round; I could tell the two six-shooters She was usin', by the sound.

32

"You can bet we did some trav'lin'

All that night and all next day; I could still a-hear the shootin'

After we was miles away.

I supposed we'd see the girl come Ridin' up to us 'fore long, That is--I was jest a-thinkin'-- If there wasn't somethin' wrong.

But, in spite of all our lookin', Sometimes slackin' up our gait, Always thinkin' we should see her Every time we'd stop and wait.

We have never seen her, Billy, And I own I'm balked a bit, Fur I know that she's a critter Made of nothin' else but grit.

33

"I wish I could go and find her, But 'twould be too hot for me; Long before I got back that fur I'd be strung up to a tree.

So I've been a kind o' thinkin', Since I see what's both'rin' you, 'Bout a thing--I hate to ask it-- That I'd like for you to do.

I don't think that girl has ever-- It sure hurts me, what I say-- But I'm sure that in the scrimmage Nancy never got away.

Billy, you go back and find her; You are all I've got to send, You can sort o' fix things decent, Where she is--in Old Man's Bend."

THE RETURN

1

Every life is but a journey-- Trav'ling on from place to place-- Starting from the point G.o.d gave us With an ever-varying pace.

Outward, onward, spurred by motives In our wand'rings here and there, Sometimes led by hope alluring, Sometimes halted by despair; But the life that travels farthest On that deeper strength depends, For with love, there is no turning; When love dies the journey ends.

2

Back across the broken foothills, With a courage none can feel Till the burning pangs of sorrow Turn the heart-strings into steel; Back across the winter's playground, Tracing out the paths he trod, With each muttered execration Ending in a prayer to G.o.d.

Blasts that howled with fiendish laughter, By their loud derisive cry Seemed to mock his labored progress As they pa.s.sed him swiftly by; Icy, blizzard-driven snowflakes Into ghost-like fancies whirled, Painting on the barren canvas, Gaunt Death battling for the world.

3

Back across the snow-strewn desert, Fighting famine face to face, Trusting to his horse to take him To each former camping place.

Once Zeb stopped beside a snowdrift With a loud and startling neigh; Tried to tell his half-dazed master Where his mate, old Simon, lay.

Pressing on, he reached the border Of Nebraska's whitened plain, Where his mind in maudlin fancies Yielded to the bitter strain, As he saw far in the distance, Like a battered mast at sea, Once again the twisted branches Of the lone and friendly tree.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Once again the twisted branches Of the lone and friendly tree."]

4

"Git up, Zeb. Come, see! She's waving!

Waving there for you and me.

See her there, so white and pretty, Standing by our friend, the tree!

Quit that stumbling! Now then, streak it!

Hit the gait you used to do When we hired out for the round up And you beat the first one through.

There she is! There's where I saw her When we stayed there all that night; Though 'twas dark, I saw her riding, By those flas.h.i.+ng threads of light; She's been waiting! Oh, I left her In this awful lonely place!

G.o.d forgive me! Nancy! hear me!

Oh, that face--that poor white face!"

5

One cold morning, old Zach Baxter, Riding o'er this s...o...b..und sea Saw a famished pony standing Near a queer and lonely tree.

From his frost-encrusted nostrils Came a plaintive whinny, low, As the man rode up beside him Struggling through the drifted snow.

When the old man tried to lead him, He refused to turn away; But he pawed the drift beneath him, Where his stricken master lay.

And below the cold, white cover, In a deathlike stupor deep, Old Zach found a sorry stranger Shrouded for his last long sleep.

6

Tearing at the ragged bundle Lodged between the horse's feet, Clutching at the frozen blanket, Brus.h.i.+ng back the crusted sleet, Faithful in his rude endeavors, Rousing by his loud commands, Roughly shaking, turning, rubbing, Zach breathed on his face and hands; Till the stiffened limbs responded And the closed eyes opened wide, Dazed and puzzled at the stranger Working fiercely at his side.

Billy felt the strong arms raise him, Felt the Frost King's stinging breath As he struggled, half unconscious, In the wav'ring fight with death.

7

In the east, the sun dogs glistened Like tall shafts of marble, bright, O'er the whitened grave of nature,-- Ghostly spires of frozen light, Flying frost flakes snapping, sparkling, Dancing in a wild display, Turned into a mist of diamonds As they mocked the newborn day.

8

Old Zach's pony bearing double, Reeking steam from every pore, Reached at last the covered pathway Leading to the dug-out door.

With his arms clasped tight round Billy, Zach half dragged his helpless load Through the lowly, mud-walled entrance Of his rudely built abode.

There, upon the narrow bunk bed Spread with nondescript attire, Zach enfolded him in wrappings While he started up a fire; And no nurse, however skillful, Whatsoever her degree, Ever gave more loyal service To a patient, than did he.