The Forbidden Trail Part 50

"What kind of a woman is she--eh?"

"Good woman. My squaw have papoose one time in her 'dobe. Charley take care her all same she her sister. Heap good white squaw, Charley."

The squaw in question nodded and smiled at Charley, who smiled in return, a little sadly. Roger turned to Qui-tha.

"How about her brother, d.i.c.k Preble? You like him?"

Qui-tha, his brown face expressionless, nodded. "Yes! Most whites steal and lie. d.i.c.k he never steal or lie to Injun. Good man, except when drunk."

"Exactly," Roger clutched his pipe bowl firmly. "Did you tell 'em about the little girl--eh?"

Qui-tha looked up in honest surprise. "Tell what 'bout little girl?"

Roger turned to Rabbit Tail. "You haven't heard about what Qui-tha did to little girl?"

"Me no touch little girl," exclaimed Qui-tha, indignantly. "Have fight with d.i.c.k', no touch little girl. Like little girl, bring her home when she get lost up here."

"You know how d.i.c.k is a devil when he gets drunk?"

Qui-tha nodded.

"You knew that, yet you brought him a bottle of whiskey and got drunk with him and shot him in the leg when you fought."

The old chief turned inquiringly toward Qui-tha. Again Qui-tha nodded grimly.

"And you knew that the infernal drunken row you kicked up that night frightened the little girl so that she ran away into the desert where a rattle snake bit her and she died--died all alone at night, in the desert."

A look of complete horror rose in Qui-tha's eyes. "No!" he gasped.

"Ai! Ai! Ai!" cried the squaw who had given Felicia the pottery. "Poor little papoose! She was sweet, like her," pointing to Charley.

Then there was silence in the camp, all eyes turned on the old chief.

Indians are great lovers of children. Their tenderness to them never fails, be they white or red or black.

"d.i.c.k heap sick?" asked old Rabbit Tail, finally.

"Yes, but he'll get well. He's at Doc Evans's house in Archer's."

"Did you tell the sheriff?" continued the chief.

"No," replied Roger. "Charley wouldn't let me."

Rabbit Tail turned to Charley. "Why?" he queried, laconically

Charley bit her lip. "The whites brought whiskey to the Indians in the first place," she said.

There was another silence. Then Roger began again. "d.i.c.k has been sick a long time now and he can't work much when he gets back. You know his alfalfa field?"

"Yes," said the chief.

"Well, d.i.c.k has been away and his water pump is no good and the alfalfa is dying. If we don't get water on it it will die. If it dies, then Charley will have much trouble, bad trouble. They owe Hackett much money because of d.i.c.k's drinking. So they can't get food unless they pay that money. They can't pay that money unless they sell much alfalfa. See?"

Qui-tha and Rabbit Tail both nodded.

"Now, I know you Indians don't believe in work. But if I can dig a big well for Charley and move my engine up to the adobe, I can get plenty of water on the alfalfa. It would take twenty Indians one week to move my plant. Rabbit Tail, you supply gangs sometimes for government work. Get Charley a gang for one week."

"You whites," said Rabbit Tail, "work heap hard for what you get--huh?

If you live like Injun, no worry 'bout food, go out shoot 'em. No worry 'bout bed. Sleep in sand, huh?"

Roger nodded. "I think many times you're right, Rabbit Tail. But it's too late now. Whites have lived like this too many hundreds of years.

They can't change to your ways any more than Indians can change to white ways."

Again there was a long pause before Rabbit Tail began once more.

"You know you whites kill many Injuns. Give Injun dirty sickness--kill Injun babies. Me--I see white take Injun baby by feet, smash head against rock. See Injun squaw belly cut out by white man. You know all that?"

Roger nodded. "The whites have been rotten to the Indians. I don't blame you for hating us. But how about Charley and the little girl?"

One of Qui-tha's squaws spoke. She had been educated at an Indian school.

"Charley showed me how to cure my baby of sore scalp and how to take care of him when he had croup. She lets me stay with her when he is sick or I am."

"She lets me use her sewing machine whenever I want it," spoke up a pretty young squaw in a red gingham dress.

"When old Chachee die," an elderly Indian woman looked from Charley to Rabbit Tail, "she die in Charley's house. Charley help sickness in her chest better'n medicine man."

Roger looked at Charley. He knew that she liked the Indians but she never had mentioned her good works to them.

The educated squaw spoke again. "I hate most white women. They treat us as if we were servants. But Charley treats us as if we were human beings like herself. And Felicia was a beautiful child."

"It's queer some of you have never been near Charley then, in her trouble," said Roger.

"The men have been working for months on the government dam at Bitter Peak. We were with them and just got here three days ago. Of course, Qui-tha didn't tell what little he knew. If the men won't help Charley, we women will. We could carry water to the field."

Qui-tha rose and walked over to Charley. "Qui-tha heap sorry. You give Qui-tha to sheriff."

Charley shook her head. "What good would that do?"

"All right then, Qui-tha go help one week, fix the alfalfa."

Old Rabbit Tail lighted another cigarette. "We come Monday, bring fifteen men, one week," he said.

"You know neither Roger nor I have any money, Rabbit Tail," explained Charley.

"Money no pay for blood. You good to Injuns. Now Injuns good to you."

Roger rose. "Thank you," he said simply. But Charley was too moved for words and as if she understood, one of the squaws put one hand on the girl's shoulder while she patted her cheek.

They clambered back to the top of the trail, without a word until the camp was out of sight, then Roger said with a half smile,