That Girl Montana Part 13

"And even if you did," said Lyster, addressing Overton, "I'm going to give you fair warning you can't depend on 'Tana, unless you mend your ways. She threatened to-day to leave us, if you allow the shadow of your anger to fall on her again. So take heed, or she will swim back to Akkomi."

Overton looked at her sharply, and saw that back of Lyster's badinage there was something of truth.

"You did?" he asked, reproachfully. "I did not know I had been so bad a friend to you as that."

But no answer was made to him. She was ashamed, and she looked it. She was also angry at Lyster, and he was made aware of it by a withering glance.

"Now _I'm_ in her bad books," he complained; "but it was only my fear of losing her that urged me to give you warning. I hope she does not take revenge by refusing me all the dances I am looking forward to to-night.

I'd like to get you, as her guardian, on my side, Overton."

The girl looked up, expectantly, and rested her slim fingers on the arms of the two men.

"I could not be of much use, unless I had an invitation myself to the dance," Dan remarked, dryly; "mine has evidently been delayed in the mail."

"You don't like it?" said the girl, detecting the fact in his slight change of tone. "You don't want me to go to dances?"

"What an idea!" exclaimed Lyster. "Of course, he is not going to spoil our good time by objecting--are you, Dan? I never thought of that. You see, you were away; but, of course, I fancied you would like it, too. I'll write you out a flouris.h.i.+ng request for your presence, if that's all."

"It isn't necessary; I'll be there, I reckon. But why should you think I mean to keep you from jollifications?" he asked, looking kindly at 'Tana.

"Don't get the idea in your head that I'm a sort of 'Bad Man from Roaring River,' who eats a man or so for breakfast every day, and all the little girls he comes across. No, indeed! I'll whistle for you to dance any time; so get on your war-paint and feathers when it pleases you."

The prospect seemed to please her, for she walked closer to him and looked up at him with more content.

"Anyway, you ain't like Captain Leek," she decided. "He's the worst old baby! Why, he just said all sorts of things about dances. Guess he must be a heavy swell where he comes from, and where all the fandangoes are got up in gilt-edged style. I'd like to spoil the gilt for him a little. I will, too, if he preaches any more of his la-de-da society rules to me. I'll show him I'm a different boy from Mrs. Huzzard."

"Now, what would you do?" asked Lyster. "He wouldn't trust himself in a boat with you, so you can't drown him."

"Don't want to. Huh! I wouldn't want to be lynched for _him_. All I'd like to hit hard would be his good opinion of himself. I could, too, if Dan wouldn't object."

"If you can, you're a wonder," remarked Dan. "And I'll give you license to do what I confess I can't. But I think you might take us into your confidence."

This she would not do, and escaped all their questions, by taking refuge in Mrs. Huzzard's best room, and much of her afternoon was spent there under that lady's surveillance, fas.h.i.+oning a party gown with which to astonish the natives. For Mrs. Huzzard would not consent to her appearing in the savageness of an Indian dress, when the occasion was one of importance--namely, the first dance in the settlement held in the house of a respectable woman.

And as 'Tana st.i.tched, and gathered, and fas.h.i.+oned the dress, according to Mrs. Huzzard's orders, she fas.h.i.+oned at the same time a little plan of her own in which the personality of Captain Leek was to figure.

If Mrs. Huzzard fancied that her silent smiles were in antic.i.p.ation of the dancing festivities, she was much mistaken.

CHAPTER VII.

A GAME OF POKER.

Mr. Max Lyster, in his hasty plans for an innocent village dance, had neglected to make allowance for a certain portion of the inhabitants whose innocence was not of the quality that allowed them to miss anything, no matter who was host. They would shoot the gla.s.s out of every window in a house, if the owner of the house should be in their bad books for any trifling slight, and would proceed to "clean out" any establishment where their own peculiar set was ignored.

There were, perhaps, seven or eight women in the place who were shown all respect by men in general. They were the wives and daughters of the city fathers--the first of the "family folks" to give the stamp of permanency to the little camp by the river. These ladies and their husbands, together with the better cla.s.s of the "boys," were the people whom Mr. Lyster expected to meet and to partake of his hospitality in the cheery abode of Mrs. Huzzard.

But Overton knew there were one or two other people to consider, and felt impatient with Lyster for his impulsive arrangements. Of course, 'Tana could not know and Mrs. Huzzard did not, but Lyster had at least been very thoughtless.

The fact was that the well-ordered establishment of Mrs. Huzzard was a grievance and a thorn in the side of certain womankind, who dwelt along the main street and kept open drinking saloons seven days in the week.

They would have bought ribbons and feathers from her, and as a milliner thought no more about her, or even if she had opened a hotel, with a bar attached, they would have been willing to greet her as a fellow worker, and all would have had even chances. But her effrontery in opening an eating house, where only water--pure or adulterated with tea or coffee--was drunk--Well, her immaculate pretensions, to use the vernacular of one of the disgusted, "made them sick."

It may have been their dislike was made more p.r.o.nounced because of the fact that the more sober-minded men turned gladly to the irreproachable abode of Mrs. Huzzard, and the "bosses" of several "gangs" of workmen had arranged with her for their meals. Besides, the river men directed any strangers to her house; whereas, before, the saloons had been the first point of view from which travelers or miners had seen Sinna Ferry. All these grievances had acc.u.mulated through the weeks, until the climax was capped when the report went abroad that a dance was to take place at the sickeningly correct restaurant, and that only the _elite_ of the settlement were expected to attend.

Thereupon some oaths had been exchanged in a desultory fas.h.i.+on over the bars at Mustang Kate's and Dutch Lena's; and derisive comments made as to Mrs. Huzzard and her late charge, the girl in the Indian dress. Some of the boys, who owned musical instruments--a banjo and a mouth organ--were openly approached by bribery to keep away from the all too perfect gathering, so that there might be a dearth of music. But the boys with the musical instruments evaded the bribes, and even hinted aloud their desire to dance once anyway with the new girl of the curly hair and the Indian dress.

This decision increased somewhat the muttering of the storm brewing; and when Dutch Lena's own man indiscreetly observed that he would have to drop in line, too, if all the good boys were going, then indeed did the cyclone of woman's wrath break over that particular branch of Hades. Lena's man was scratched a little with a knife before quiet was restored, and there had been some articles of furniture flung around promiscuously; also some violent language.

Overton divined somewhat of all this, knowing as he did the material of the neighborhood, though no actual history of events came to his ears. And 'Tana, presenting herself to his notice in all the glory of her party dress, felt her enthusiasm cool as he looked at her moodily. He would have liked to shut her away from all the vulgar gaze and comment he knew her charming face would win for her. His responsibilities as a guardian forced on him so many new phases of thought. He had never before given the social side of Sinna Ferry much consideration; but he thought fast and angrily as he looked down on the slim, girlish, white-draped figure and the lovely appealing face turned upward to him.

"You don't like it--you don't think it is pretty?" she asked, and her mouth was a little tremulous. "I tried so hard. I sewed part of it myself, and Mrs. Huzzard said--"

Lyster arose from a seat by the window. He had entered the room but a moment before, and now lounged toward her with critical eyes.

"Mrs. Huzzard said you were enchanting in your new gown--is not that it?"

he asked, and then frowned at Overton in a serio-comic way. "And lives there a man with soul so dead that he cannot perceive the manifold beauties arranged for his inspection? Well, you know I told you I appreciate you much more than he will ever do; so--"

"What nonsense you are talking!" said Overton, irritably. "Of course, the dress is all right. I don't know much about such things, though; so my opinion is not worth much. But I don't think little girls should be told so much of their charms, Lyster. They are too likely to be made think that prettiness is the only thing worth living for."

He smiled at 'Tana to soften the severity of his speech; but she was not looking at him just then, and so missed the softening accompaniment. She felt it was herself who was taken to task instead of Lyster, and stood with drooped, darkening face until the door closed behind Overton.

"That is your fault," she burst out. "He--he might have thought it was nice, if you hadn't been here with your fool speeches. You just go around laughing at everything, Mr. Max Lyster, and you're just as empty as that china cat on the mantel, and it's hollow. I'd like to hit you sometimes when you say your nice, tantalizing words--that's what _I'd_ like to do; and maybe some day I will."

"I shouldn't be surprised if you did," he agreed, and stepped back out of range of her clenched brown hands. "Whew! what a trial you'd be to a guardian who had nerves. You are spoiling your pretty face with that satanic expression. Now, why should you make war on me? I'm sure I am one of your most devoted servants."

"You are your own devoted servant," she retorted, "and you'll never be any other person's."

"Well, now, I'm not so sure of that," he said, and looked at her smilingly. All her anger did not keep him from seeing what a wondrous difference all that white, billowy lawn made in the girl whom he had taken for a squaw that first day when he saw her swimming the Kootenai.

She looked taller, slighter, with such lovable curves in the girlish form, and the creamy neck and arms gleaming through the thin material. No ornaments or ribbons broke the whiteness of her garb--nothing but the Indian belt of beads that Overton had given her, and in it were reddish tints and golden brown the color of her hair.

To be sure, the cheeks were a little tanned by the weather, and the little hand was browner than need be for beauty; but, for all that, he realized, as Overton had seemingly not done, that the girl, when dressed as dainty girlhood should be, was very pretty, indeed.

"I am willing to sign myself your bond slave from this hour, if that will lessen your anger against me," he protested. "Just think, I leave Sinna Ferry to-morrow. How shall I do penance until then?"

"'It may be for years, and it may be forever, Then why art thou silent, O voice of my heart?'"

She pouted and frowned a little at his warbling, though a smile eventually touched her lips, and speculation shone in her eyes.

"I _will_ make you do penance," she declared, "and right now, too. I haven't any money, but I'll put up my moccasins against five dollars in a game of poker."

"You--play poker?"

"I'll try," she said briefly, and her eyes sparkled; "I'll play you and ask no favors."

"Your moccasins are not worth five."