Ladybird (10 page)

Then just when it seemed that her strained muscles could not hold on another second, the horse stopped stock-still so suddenly and unexpectedly that the aching muscles, set rigidly for the motion of swiftly shooting forward, suddenly lost their grip; and when the horse suddenly rose upon his hind legs and shook himself with a spiral motion, Fraley went limp and slid to earth in a crumpled little heap, everything gone black around her.

When she came to herself and looked around, the horse was gone, and a deadly inertia was upon her. She felt too languid even to raise her head or her hand and somehow did not seem to care whether she was in danger or not. She wondered if perhaps she was dying.

Gradually her memory returned and, with it, the sense of danger. She began to stir herself slowly and at last rose to a sitting posture and took account of stock.

Her first anxiety came when she discovered that the bag was not around her shoulders. But on further examination she found that it was lying only a few feet away, one strap torn and some of the contents scattered around.

With trembling limbs, she crept over to it and began gathering up her things, the slow tears rolling down her cheeks.

When she came to the binoculars she remembered Pete. Perhaps he was already almost upon her. She put the binoculars to her eyes and searched the distance fearfully, but there was no sign of living creatures as far as the eye could reach, not even a glimmer of a lake. The horse must have brought her a long way, but he would probably return to his master. It would not take Pete long to give the warning to his mates, and they would surround her. For by this time Pete was probably recovered from the sand she had thrown in his eyes, and he would be angrier than ever. No torture would be too great for her punishment.

In a new panic, she looked around and discovered a forest not far away. Could she get to it? Fear winged her feet and gave her new strength, and she started in haste for the only shelter offered.

And then it took nearly an hour to get to the edge of the woods. By this time she was faint with hunger and worn with anxiety and could hardly drag one foot after the other. She sank down at last in the heart of the forest, too spent to do anything for a time but lie with closed eyes and just be thankful she was sheltered.

She was not hungry now. The anxiety and fatigue and the shock of the fall had taken her appetite away, but she was sick and dizzy for lack of food and knew she should eat something.

She dared not make a fire to bake her meal into cakes, and she dared not eat salt pork only lest she be tormented with thirst. She had taken the precaution to wash and fill her water bottle when she first went down by the lake, but that would not last long, and there was no telling how far she might have to go before she found water again.

But she must eat or she could not go on, so she took out the little bag of meal and forced herself to chew some of the dry meal slowly, washing it down with sparing sips of water, until at last she felt a little better.

And now her uncharted course led her through the forest, one of the tall primeval kinds, with dim sweet light filtering from far above and distant birds flying from branch to branch and singing strange sweet songs. Little squirrels raced and chattered from bough to bough, and the air was delicious with balsam breath. The paths were smooth here, soft and resinous with pine needles and little pretty cones she longed to stop and pick up. It was a place she would have loved to linger in, and once she sat down at the foot of a large tree, looked up the length of its mighty trunk, and drew a deep breath of relief. It was like finding sanctuary from trouble to walk these forest aisles, and she dreaded to leave it.

It was late in the afternoon when she finally stepped fearfully out from the woods, wondering if after all she had not better remain there for another night. The sun could not be more than two hours from setting now, and the world looked strange and different as she paused and tried to get her bearings. There were still some mountains in the distance, but they did not look quite like the mountains she knew. They were far away and purple with a misty light upon them, and the land ahead of her looked flatter and had been fenced in places, though there were still wide stretches of land without fences, with just a sort of hard flat trail over them. This must be what men in the world called a road.

Strange that just going through a forest, even a wide forest like the one she had traversed, should make things different. Here there seemed to be no friendly hidings, few trees together that could be climbed in time of need.

She hardly knew how to adjust herself to this new outlook.

She stepped timidly down from the wooded bank and started along the cleared, smooth way. It was even easier going than in the forest, and she made good time. But what, she wondered, should she do if enemies on horseback came along that way and met her? Here were no convenient holes in which to burrow, no kindly mountain to offer shelter, only the open country wide and frightening and different. It seemed so far to anywhere, yet there was a way marked out, and on the beaten path she took her unknown course.

It might have been an hour she walked along, her feet growing sore with the dust between her toes, and longing for rest again, when a strange, foreign noise began to grow upon her consciousness. It came from behind her, and she stopped in a nameless dread as she saw an old horse jogging along the road at a steady pace, drawing a shaky vehicle of the type known as a buckboard. It was the rattle of the wobbling wheels, more than the
thud, thud
of the old horse’s feet on the dirt road, that had made the strange noise, but the sight of the oncoming wagon frightened the little pilgrim more than anything that had come her way yet.

There was nothing to do but stand aside until the thing had passed, or take to the open and run, and she had sense enough to see that this course would lay her open to suspicion far more than to sit by the wayside and rest. So she sat down a little off the beaten track and looked toward the sunset, as if she had come out for that purpose, even as she might have done at home by the old cabin in the mountains.

She could not yet see the driver of the wagon very clearly, but she knew that none of her immediate enemies drove such things as that; they all went on horseback. Of course it might be some of their gang who had been sent to trace her, but if it was she would have to face it somehow. She selected deliberately a spot of ground that was a bit higher than the road and throwing her bag down, flung herself beside it, resting one elbow on the firm square of the old Bible, her hand slipped through the strap, if there came a need for sudden flight.

On came the buckboard, and presently she could see the driver quite plainly. It was a woman, dressed in an old dark cotton frock with a man’s felt hat on the back of her head. A few straggling gray locks of hair hung down around her ears, and her skin was darkly tanned like old tired leather. She sat slouched forward on the rickety seat, occasionally looking over her shoulder to a box of things that was lashed to the back of the rig. When she got opposite to Fraley she drew rein and stopped, gazing at her pleasantly and not at all curiously.

“Howdy,” she said with a kindly leather smile, “want a lift?”

Fraley half rose, a frightened look in her eyes, ready for almost anything but glad that it was a woman.

“Want a
what?”
she asked doubtfully.

“Goin’ my way?” explained the woman questioningly. “Want a lift? It’s late fer walkin’. Hop in!”

“Oh!” said the girl, beginning to comprehend. “Thank you. How much will it be to ride a little way?”

“Not a cent!” responded the woman heartily. “We don’t charge fer lifts out our way. I’m gettin’ back to the ranch before dark ef I kin make it. Left the children alone with the dogs. Gettin’ oneasy about ’em, so hop in quick. I ain’t got time to waste!”

Fraley was coming down the bank swiftly now. The invitation sounded too good to be true, for her weary feet would hardly carry her down the slope and the bag dragged heavily on her shoulder as if it were weighted with iron.

“You are very kind!” she said shyly as she climbed up beside the woman. It was only after the old horse had started on his jog trot again that she thought this might possibly be a person sent by her enemies to lure her back to them. So she rested the heavy bag in her lap and sat tongue-tied, choking over the thought.

“How fur be you going?” asked the woman, turning kindly, uncurious eyes upon her.

“A good many miles,” stated Fraley noncommittally. “I’m sure I’m much obliged for the ride,” she added, as her mother had taught her was proper.

“Well, you mustn’t let me carry you outta your way,” said her hostess. “My ranch turns off to the right about fifteen miles beyond here.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Fraley, relieved that it did not turn to the left. Somehow her instinct taught her that the southern route was best, at least until she was farther east.

“Come fur?” asked the woman, still eyeing her admiringly.

“Yes, a good ways,” said Fraley laconically.

“Well, where are you goin’? I don’t wantta take you outta yer way.”

“Why, down this road,” said the girl. “I you see, I’m just traveling.”

“Umm!” observed the woman in a tone that implied her answer was inadequate.

“I’m on my way to New York,” Fraley added desperately, feeling that she must make some explanation. The woman reminded her a little of her mother.

“Umm! Yer young to be goin’that fur alone,” observed the woman affably. “What’s yer ma think o’ yer goin’? I hope ye ain’t running away. Ef ye are, I ken tell ya it don’t pay. I done it, and look at me!”

“Oh,” said Fraley, her tired eyes suddenly filling with tears, “my mother is dead! She told me to go. Yes, I’m running away, but not from anybody that has a right.”

“There, there, honey child, don’t you cry! I hadta ast. You see, I’m a mother, an’ you is too little and sweet eyed to be trampin’ around these here diggins alone so near night. There’s them that might do ya harm.”

“But I have to go. I have people in the East.”

“Well, thank goodness fur that!” said the woman warmly. “An’ I’ll take ye home with me ta-night, and you can have a good supper and a nice sleep before you start on. You look all beat out. And in the morning, my Car’line’ll harness up an’ give ya a lift over ta the railroad. It ain’t so fur, an’ she’s used ta drivin’ alone. She can take Billy along fer comp’ny on the way back.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Fraley again, still frightened at the way her affairs were being managed for her. She didn’t want to go to a strange ranch. There would be men there, and there might be friends of Brand’s or Pierce’s. Then she would not be safe ever, for they would come and hunt her wherever she went if they once got track of her. They would claim she was theirs.

“My old man died three years back and left me with five children,” went on her would-be hostess. “I thought we’d come to the end, but I stuck it out, and now Jimmie is fifteen, and he can do a man’s work. I useta have a hired man, but he got drunk and I got tired of it, so now we just look after things ourselves.”

“Oh,” said Fraley, suddenly relieved there were no men to face at the ranch.

“That’s one reason I’m hurryin’ home. Jimmie’s plantin’ t’day, an’ he’ll be tired, and Car’line’s got a cut on her hand an’ can’t milk. I got two cows, and they’ll be bawlin’ fit ta kill. I don’t let the young children milk; they’re too fresh. Last time Billy tried he knocked a whole pail of milk over on himself.”

“Oh, I can milk,” said Fraley eagerly. “If you’ll let me milk to pay for staying, I’d be glad to come to your house tonight.”

“You got such little hands I wouldn’t think you could bring the milk down,” remarked the woman, eyeing Fraley’s little brown hands that lay relaxed in her lap.

“But I can,” said the girl earnestly.

“All right. You can try. I’ve got an awful lot to do to red up. I’m expecting a man t’morra from over beyont the mountain. His name’s Carter, Brand Carter. Mebbe you’ve heard of him. He’s coming to look over some steers I’ve got for sale.”

F
raley’s face grew white as milk, and her heart seemed almost to cease to beat. The sustaining power seemed to ebb away from her arms and shoulder, and her whole body slumped. With the relaxing of her position, the bag on her lap began to slide and, in a second more, would have gone out onto the road. But she rallied and caught it and covered her confusion well with the effort.

“Say, you don’t need ta hold that heavy bundle!” exclaimed the woman, alert at once to be kindly. “Here! Lemme put it back in my box. There’s plenty a room there, and it can’t get out. You’re all beat out, an’ you’re white as a sheet.”

“Oh, thank you but I’m all right,” urged Fraley, gripping her precious bag close once more. “I’d rather hold it. There are some very special things in it. They might fall out. It doesn’t fasten very close together.”

“But ain’t it heavy? My land! I don’t see how you ever managed carrying all that, hiking it! I think it’s better to travel light. What you got in there? Can’t you ship ’em on by freight?”

“Oh no!” said Fraley aghast. “I wouldn’t want to trust it that way! It’s my Bible, that’s the only heavy thing, and I couldn’t be without it. Besides, I wouldn’t be sure just where to send it till I got there.”

“Why, ain’t you got your folks’ address?”

“Yes, I have the old address, but they might have moved,” said Fraley evasively.

“Hmmm! Well, you could leave it to my house till you got fixed and let me know where to send it. Me, I wouldn’t bother about just a Bible. You can buy ’em cheap anywhere.”

“Oh no,” said the girl, horrified, “not like this one. This was my mother’s Bible. She taught me to read out of it. It has things written down in the cover things that she wrote for me. I promised her I’d never let it get away from me.”

“Oh, well, that’s diffrunt, of course, ef your maw wrote things down fer you to remember. I thought ef ’twas jest a common Bible why you cud git one most ennywheres. I don’t see what use they is ennyhow. Except ta sit round on the parlor table like a nornament and hev ta dust all the time. Me, I didn’t even bring mine with me when I cum out here. I hed too much else ta think about. I never missed it. I was too busy ta dust books. Besides, I never had no parlor table. Say, why don’t you stay ta our house awhile? You cud be comp’ny fer my Car’line. Mebbe she wouldn’t be so crazy to git out an’ see the world ef she hed a girl her own age to talk to. She’s got men comin’ to see her a’ready, an’ she ain’t much older’n you. There’s one comes ridin’ over the crest of the mountain every once an’ awhile. She’s allus fussin’ up when he comes. His name’s Pierce somethin’. I didn’t rightly git the last name, an’ I won’t ast Car’line, it would give her too much satisfaction. But I don’t like his eye. It ain’t nice. I donno why, but it ain’t. Say, whyn’t you stay over a week er so an’ be comp’ny fer Car’line? It might kinda make her more contented like.”