CHAPTER XIV.
It was several weeks after the events narrated in the last chapter, and there was quite an excitement at a place which, though not yet born, was named Boomtown. There was to be a portion of the Reservation to be given over to settlers, and many women were among the men who were ready to cross the line at the signal and take up their section of ground, and thus establish a home.
Morris had gained his strength, and Bennie had gotten over the mortification of having been chased up a tree by what he considered some vicious animal on the momentous night of the attack on Morris, only to find in the morning that it had been but a cow that had strayed from the herd and wanted human companionship. Bennie had been unmercifully guyed by the rough men, but he took it all in such good part that they ceased tormenting him and liked him better than he knew.
Helen and Loney were almost inseparable,and under her good care and the good fare and bracing mountain air he was fast rounding into a fine boy—healthy and rosy.
Shoshone, as well as all the men and women within range, was as fond of Helen as ever. Her errands of mercy and kindness, done always without money and without price, endeared her to all alike, even the Indians looking upon her as something saintly and one whom they should respect as one sent from the Great Spirit.
Dora had disappeared entirely, and no one could find the slightest trace of her. The patient Indians had been impressed into the search, but no tidings came from her, and no trace of John, Muriel or Dopey could be found. Morris despaired, and had grown old and almost gray. Bennie had lost much of his bright gayety, and it seemed as though the shadow would never be lifted.
Morris had discovered that Helen was the sister of the dead man, and as such he gave her her share of the claim which they were now sure was of great value, but often a rich claim is known well to be, so it lies idle and unproductive for want of the money to pay to work it. This claim, which promised so well, would need deep tunnelling, a quartz-mill and all the other things necessary to properly work it. Morrisand Helen might stay there forever and dig out a few dollars worth of gold a day, but, with millions almost in sight, it would be asking too much of them to expect them to do this, when Helen knew if Morris did not, that there were plenty men with the means and the knowledge ready to join them once they were convinced that the mine was all they claimed.
So, to try and find one of these rare birds, the capitalist, Helen and Morris with Loney, and Bennie, came down to Hellandgone, and were persuaded by Shoshone and the others of the “old crowd,” as they called themselves, to come over to the rush into the Reservation. Helen was to cross the line with Loney, and lay claim to one parcel for the child and one for herself.
Bennie was looking all about for Morris, who had disappeared strangely and suddenly, but without success.
There was a great crowd gathered at the edge of the railroad, waiting for the signal to cross it, for the roadbed was the line of demarkation, and on the farther side was the land for distribution. Red Eagle was there, looking on the crowd and at the land with a somber face. This land had belonged to his forbears from beyond recollection, and, little by little, it had beentaken away from them, until now this last and best strip was to be given over to the white man.
When all had gathered, that seemed likely to come, Shoshone mounted a large dry-goods box that seemed to be there providentially for the purpose and shouted:
“Listen! ladies and gentlemen. I am Pete Browning, known to you best as Shoshone Pete. I have been appointed Marshal of Boomtown. I am here to preserve order. Any decent man and I will get along all hunky, but all thugs, crooks and bad men take warning, for I’ll shoot on sight! Now you know me, who I am and what I’m here for.”
All the “boys” from Hellandgone and the adjacent country gave in chorus their yell of “Ee—you!” until the very ground trembled.
“He’s a wanderer from Dead Man’s Gulch, but he’s not alone, for we’re his little brothers!” shouted Dan. Then again resounded the “Zip! Zip! yee, you!” in which Red Eagle joined with unction, for he smelled whiskey as the ending of this festival. Then Red Eagle was cheered, at which he bowed with preternatural dignity.
At this juncture Snakes Duffy came up with a keg of whiskey on his shoulder, at which everybodycheered, but Helen went to him and, smiling pleasantly, asked him something, to which he nodded assent and deliberately turned the keg on end and sat down on it. He disposed himself so as to listen to what Shoshone had to say, and this gentleman spoke:
“To those who don’t know, let me state that at 12 o’clock precisely, a few seconds from now, as Deputy United States Marshal, I shall fire my pistol, and that will be the signal for the crossing of the line, which is the railroad track. Over there is the Reservation, and no man must cross it until he hears the signal. The one who does it, does so at the risk of his life!”
Shoshone stood still as a statue, looking at his watch and holding his great pistol with its shining barrel.
“Don’t be in a hurry, boys; don’t be in a hurry to try your wings. He’s from the heart of the Gulch and shoots with both hands—never misses, either.”
This advice probably had some effect, for everyone kept in his place, when Mike shouted, and in a voice loud enough to be heard all over the county:
“Say, boys, we all owe it to the Angel that she should be given one minute’s start over everyone here. All in favor of it say ‘aye.’”
Such a chorus of “ayes” rose that it showed Helen that her gentle ministrations and self-sacrifice had been appreciated in her own generation.
“Go, Angel, and take the boy, Loney, along. He ought to have a start in life.”
“Thank you, friends,” said Helen, “I will do this, not so much for myself——”
“Oh, go on and pick out a pretty place, and the boys will build you a shack.”
Smiling happily, Helen went across the track and back some yards and sat down. With a shout then Shoshone fired his pistol, and there was a wild rush of all present, but it was a good-natured one, thanks to the absence of the cause of most of the disputes of the far West—whiskey.
Then a strange phenomenon took place. As the pistol was fired, Shoshone sprang from the box and rushed forward with the rest, intent on finding Helen and protecting her from the rushing feet, and this box rose in the air of itself and two legs showed beneath it, until it reached the goal it had set, and then the box with the legs under it sat down on the ground, and those near could read the legend:
Morris Goldberg, Shoemaker, & Real Estate.
All present sent up such a shout of laughter that it set the crowd in such good humor that the town was born without a single fight.
As Shoshone reached the side of the dry-goods box he was nearly dead from laughter, but managed to say:
“Well, you have beat us all, Mr. Goldberg. We have but our lots, while you have your house all done, and are ready for business.”
“Yah, dere pe no flies on me, Mr. Shoshone. Vere is der Angel, mein partner in der claim? Meppe ve make some moneys in real estate, und I can vork at mein trate until ve fix it all. Yust to t’ink, she vos de sister of dot ‘Cactus Bill.’ I dell you dot she is a real angel. Didn’t she dake care of me after dot scoundrel knocked me out? Und she is like a mutter to dot Loney. Und she is so goot. Ach, Gott! if I haf millions, dey should all be hers.”
Somehow this frank admiration was not so pleasant to Shoshone as it might have been. He felt a sort of tugging at his heart that he had never felt before. Was it jealousy? He did not know exactly, but it was a very uncomfortable feeling. Then he asked how it was that Morris, with a claim, and thus a home of his own, should have come down here to try to grasp a homestead.
“Ah, mein friendt, it vos because one of dem cigar-store signs came und said dot he haf heard dot dose mens vot haf stole mein chilt vos coming here, und I comet too. Und so long as ve vos here, it don’t cost nodings to take de claim, and so, meppe, I vork und make enough to vork de claim. Say, Shoshone, vy you don’t get merrit mit de Angel, and live here, too?”
This innocent question so took Shoshone by surprise that for a moment he could not speak. Then he said, sadly:
“I would, but she won’t have me. I don’t blame her for not liking one so rough.”
“Ut-tut, I haf see in her eyes, ven she look at you, dot she likes you, und——”
Here Shoshone seized the old man’s hand and fairly wrung it in his joy. The shoemaker said, simply:
“Vell, I call de Bennie to bring me mein tools und I pegin piziness, if dere is any; und if not, den ve set de tent. Und Helen vill haf de tent till she can get a house. Vill you come?”
Would he go to where Helen was? He certainly would, and did.
John and Dopey had been in that crowd. John’s resources always depended on the men that he could fleece at gambling, or some other game of confidence. They had resumed theirfull beards and dressed in a different manner, so they felt sure they would not be recognized if anyone of the crowd at Hellandgone should be at the birth of the new town. John had caught sight of Morris, and said to Dopey:
“Either that Jew is the smartest detective in the United States or the biggest fool for luck. It doesn’t matter much which, but it seems impossible to get rid of him.”
“Have you tried de right way yet, boss? You allus lets him get away. It wouldn’t be noticed if he was to get a stray bullet in his gizzard now. There is allus a shooting-match in this kind of a ruction.”
“You are right. This is the place and time to rid ourselves of him. Here we put our necks in danger, sneaking in the back way, so to speak, and run up against the old man, and the daughter still on our hands. We have got to play this game fine or we’ll lose. And here she has come to her senses again. That is one of the unaccountable things no one can explain. Some persons go suddenly insane and as suddenly regain their reason. It doubles our danger. And Muriel has turned such a tiger-cat about her. Oh, hide! hide quick! For if God is to judge me, here comes my wife, and the boy with her. Howshall we get him away, for no one knows when or what he may tell?”
The two scoundrels escaped in the crowd, and pretended to be hunting for someone. The last thing they would now think of was to try to settle in the place made so dangerous for them.
Helen and the child came along to the box where Morris had fixed his abode and sat down upon it, she having registered the two claims. She said:
“We must try and get back to the Gulch before there is any kind of trouble, for often when there is a crowd like this they get to drinking and fighting. Snakes was so good, and would not sell any, but there may be others who will. Some of the men are desperate characters.”
“Let’s hurry then, for I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, because I love you so much.”
“Do you love me, Loney? That sounds so sweet, and I am so glad that I could win your affection. And I am glad if I could to-day do anything to insure your future. If my own little boy had lived, he would have been about your own age. And he must have looked as you do had he lived.”
“Well, I wish that I had been your little boy.You don’t know how it feels to know you are nobody’s boy.”
All the boomers were occupied each with his own plans, and they seemed to consist in getting their claims registered, and after that getting their tents set up. In a surprisingly short time the place looked like a miniature village done in white. No one seemed to notice that two men had approached Helen and the child, who were still sitting on the box which Morris owned. As she saw these rough-looking men, each with a full dark beard, Helen started, for there was something sinister in their manner. She turned to them, saying:
“Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Never mind who I am. I know my business, and it is that I want that boy.”
“What right have you to ask such a thing? What is this child to you?”
As Helen said this firmly, John stood so that he was hidden from sight, while he removed his false beard, saying:
“Look at me closely and, maybe, you will know.”
“My God! it is John Pierson!”
“Yes; John Pierson, and that boy’s father.”
“Then I am his mother. Touch him if you dare!”
“Don’t let him take me! Don’t let him! It was that man that killed the man in New York and tried to kill me!” screamed Loney, clinging to Helen wildly.
“Don’t fear, my child! for he shall not harm one hair of your head!”
“And what will you do? What can you do to prevent it?”
“Do? Stand here and fight for him until you’ve hacked me to pieces with that murderous knife! And I bid you beware, for I am his mother!”
“Onto her, Dopey! We’ll settle this right now!”
Dopey started toward Helen with his slung-shot raised for a crushing blow, when he stopped suddenly with his arm raised, as he saw behind John the long figure of Morris, who stood there, with his pistol raised, ready to fire.
Morris had not lived long as he had in the West without learning how to shoot and to employ some of the picturesque language in use there.
“Looket out, mein frients! Diss is de Yiddish doctor, und he might fill you full of a kint of pills you vouldn’t like so vell.”
“Get away, Dopey; here comes someone else we don’t want to meet.” And they startedaway so suddenly that Morris had no chance to shoot, had he dared fire in that crowded place.
“Und I dare not shoot, although dose are de mens vot haf mein Dora.”
“They are the ones that killed the man in your shop, for I saw the big one take off his whiskers—and it was the same one!”
“Und mein chilt, maype, is among dis crowd. May de goot Gott show me de vay to fint her!”
While this was transpiring, Helen was kneeling at Loney’s side, weeping with joy and kissing the child at the same time. “May He help you to find your child as He has helped me find mine! Loney is my own little boy, whom Heaven has sent back to his mother’s heart. Thank God! that he did not die!”
“I knew that you would come back some day, for I always prayed you would. I knew I would find my mother. I don’t like my father, for he is bad and wicked. He tried to kill me, and carried Dora away!”
“Is that so, Mr. Goldberg? It is then but an added crime.”
“Yes, Helen, und I haf prayet dot I vould fint mein child. I vill go out und look in efery blace till I see if she is here. Go you to de tent und stay dere till I come again. You are not safe here.”
Bennie came back sad and crestfallen. What to him were all the lots in the world without Dora, and even his optimistic soul was down in the depths of despair. But all he said was:
“I will go with you to look for her. I think I saw the two men that we seek among the boomers, but am not sure; but, in any case, it is better than sitting still.”
“Yes, Bennie, ve must fint her or I shall lose my reason.”
So Helen and the child started back to the tent and went inside, and there they were measurably safe, as they were surrounded by boomers who were busy setting their tents in order.
“Oh, mother,” said Loney, “how glad I am that we have found each other! Now, when it comes night, I can say my prayers at your knees instead of all alone.”
“Yes, and you must always pray for the good man who took you into his home when you were an outcast, through your own father’s wickedness. It was he who showed me that it was never too late to mend. And I do not intend to ever try to teach you to revere the memory of such a father as yours is. He is unworthy of such a child, even unworthy of me.”
“Mother, they call you the Angel here. Why?Oh, I know; it is because you are so kind to everyone. Teach me, so that I may be like you.”
Scarcely had Helen and Loney gone from the box when Muriel and Dora came to the very spot. Muriel was pale and worn out, and her once handsome garments were almost in rags from the long marches and the exposure to which she had been subjected. Dora was dressed in a pretty and complete Indian maiden’s costume which Muriel had bought from Red Eagle, whose love for firewater had caused him to barter away what his squaw had kept sacred ever since her daughter had died in her youth. So, unless he happened to see her face, John would scarcely have recognized Dora. She had a shawl drawn up over her head, so as to conceal her identity still better. Muriel said, hurriedly:
“Go, go! and get lost in the crowd! I cannot protect you longer!”
She did not tell Dora that she knew herself to be dying from pneumonia, for she knew the child then would not leave her, so she held Dora close to her heart for a moment, and then sent her away.
“I thank you with all my heart for all your goodness to me, and I will pray that Heavenmay repay you for all you have endured for me!”
“Go, go! I fancy I see them following us in the crowd back there. And it will cost our lives if they find us again! Go, Dora!”
“Good-bye, dear Muriel. God bless and keep you safe!” And Dora mingled with the crowd, none of whom took more than casual notice of the squaw, for squaws were common about there.
Shoshone came by the box, hoping to find the shoemaker. Helen was with him, but the boy was not. “And,” he said, continuing a conversation they had had:
“Don’t worry about the boy, Helen. He is safer with the boys than with you.”
They did not notice Muriel, who looked at Helen for a moment with tears in her eyes and then slipped away unseen by Helen, whose sorrows she had caused in a great measure.
“Are you sure he would be safe with them? Think what it would mean to me to lose him again!”
“Don’t worry. Anyone of the boys would die for you any day, and as he is your boy they would naturally transfer their allegiance to him. And you say it is his father who, to rob you of him, killed your brother, ‘Cactus Bill,’ and stolethis poor Dora? Say, he must be aching for the noose. And, besides, it was he who tried to kill Goldberg!”
“Yes; he is John Pierson. I saw him but just now, and he tried to take my child again. Oh, I wonder such men are permitted to live! He outraged every human emotion, abandoned me with another woman, and to think that he should have killed my poor brother! He was an honest man.”
“You bet he was. We all knew him, and he was white, he was.”
Shoshone stopped in his oration, saying: “Go back to the tent, girl. Some of the boys are going to get busy.”
“What do you mean, Shoshone?”
“Nothin’, Helen, nothin’. I didn’t mean for you to go alone. I’ll go along.”
“Thank you, Shoshone, I am growing to be a coward.”
They could not have gone more than fifty yards from the box when Muriel came back that way, looking behind her in terror, as she saw her two enemies following her, so that she could not escape. John approached her, saying:
“What have you done with her? Where is she, you traitor?”
“I have set her free, you devil! and I’m readyto die for having done it!” said Muriel, no longer seeking to escape, and folding her hands.
“Then die!”
Saying this, John fired point-blank at Muriel’s heart, and she fell to the ground with a cry, while John said to Dopey: “Come this way! this way, quick!”
At the sound of this shot, followed by a woman’s cry, there was a rush of people, and among them Helen, for, in her excited mind, she feared for her child. As she approached, the men made way for her, and she knelt by the side of the dying woman, saying:
“A woman, poor thing!”
Then she started, saying, “You, you!”
“Yes, I; and is it possible that I am to die in your arms—you whom I wronged so deeply?”
“Yes, Muriel, if you die, it shall be in my arms and with my pardon.”
“You pardon me after all I’ve done to you?”
“Yes; freely and fully, but don’t think of that. Can you pray?”
“Not until I tell you who killed me! It was John Pierson. The man I took away from you has been your avenger.”
“I want no revenge, Muriel. Vengeance is not for us!”
The unfortunate woman gasped a few times, and while Helen was praying for the passing soul the light went out of Muriel’s eyes and she was dead!
“Hats off, boys; she is going over the range,” Shoshone had said while Muriel was gasping her last breaths. Helen covered the face, letting fall pearly tears as she did so.
While the moment was still tense there was a scream from a woman, and Dora rushed to the spot where the crowd had gathered, crying:
“Save me! save me!” And she ran to Helen as the only woman there.
John and Dopey threw prudence to the winds by pursuing her, and John drew his pistol, saying:
“We have a fine round-up just now, everybody together!” And he tried to seize Dora, while her father, with his eyes of fire and his hair flying in the wind, came rushing up.
“I heard Dora! I heard her!” Then he leveled his pistol at John, saying: “Move a muscle, and I’ll kill you deat!”
“Kill him, Dopey! I’m all right.”
“Never mind him, pardner,” said Shoshone to Morris. Then to John: “Your game is up, and I have won, as the Deputy Marshal. Boys,” he added, with a dread significance. They closedaround the murderer and Dopey, who showed more fight than John had, but then he did not know quite so well the meaning of the deep silence that had fallen upon them all.
“Dora! Dora!” called the distracted father, when there ran into his arms what he had supposed was an Indian girl.
“Papa, papa! and Bennie, too. Oh, how glad I am! I don’t know how it all happened, but we are together now.”
Shoshone made a motion to Goldberg to take them away, and, leading Dora by one hand and Bennie by the other, they started to the tent.
Helen sank down to the box, incapable of movement. She knew what the sudden silence meant and saw Dan take his lariat. She covered her face with her hands and sat there for what she thought a year. Then she felt her hand taken, and looked up to see Shoshone standing there and in his grave face she read the truth. Swift justice had been meted out to the murderers for their crimes!
Helen was free; no, not quite free, for she was now held close in Shoshone’s arms.
THE END.