A frontier knight

SUCH a cheer as went up, when, the suspense over, every one was aware of the result of the drawing. Hannah Maria was the first to rush up with congratulations to Ira. Never before had she been so closely concerned in a romance, and that it had turned out so well was beyond her dearest hopes. Alison and Christine were scarcely more pleased than fat, good-natured, sentimental Hannah Maria. Since the annexation of Texas to the United States the time had passed when the presence of a padre was necessary to legalize a marriage, and so it was hoped that there would be no delay in the wedding, as Judge Jackson had been notified by his friend Jabez Manypenny to be present, and was promptly on hand to perform the ceremony for Ira and Louisa, to Jabez’ discomfiture and Pike’s rage.

Though matters had turned out very differently from what Cyrus had expected he could say nothing, for there were too many witnesses to the transaction for him to attempt to back out of his agreement, and, moreover, he knew that a very determined set of men would permit nothing less than the carrying out of the scheme he himself had arranged. The fact that Ira held a number came as a surprise to him, and he began to bluster about it to Bud, claiming that it was not fair, and that the drawing should be done over again, but he was so fiercely turned upon by half a dozen big fellows that he perceived the wisdom of letting the matter rest. At first he hoped there would be some way of deferring the marriage, and that he could evolve some plan by which Ira could be sent out of the way. He knew Pike would hesitate at nothing, and, for a moment, in the sharpness of his disappointment, he had a wild notion of getting Pike’s help in abducting Louisa or Ira, but, to his credit be it said, he was reluctant to allow his daughter to marry such a scamp as he knew Pike to be, and when all insisted that there should be no delay in the ceremony he acquiesced with as good a grace as could be expected.

The old judge in long boots, flannel shirt, and with untrimmed beard, elbowed his way through the crowd of giggling girls clustered together in the middle of the room. Hannah Maria, in her element, whispered suggestions to the bridal party. The company lined up leaving a passageway for John and Christine, Alison and Blythe Van Dorn, acting as bridesmaids and groomsmen and preceding Ira and Louisa, the latter in gay calico gown. The old judge wasted no time, and in a remarkably short space of time Louisa was Mrs. Ira Korner. Then the witnesses pressed forward to offer congratulations. All but two had a hearty word to say. Jabez Manypenny did not tarry, but sneaked out the door before the ceremony was over and, mounting his horse, rode home, meditating upon the uncertainty of human hopes. Pike Smith, gnashing his teeth in rage, kept watch in the darkness of the pine woods near at hand.

“When we started out this morning you didn’t expect to be a married man before night, did you, Ira?” said John, giving his companion in arms a hearty slap on the shoulder.

“I didn’t exactly count on it,” said Ira.

“You’d better come home with us,” continued John. “You know that place of yours isn’t very handy to get to and it’s been shut up all these months, and I will venture to say it isn’t any too well fixed up at its best.”

Ira laughed. “Well, I reckon you’re right. It is pretty messy as I remember.”

“Then you just come to our house till you can fix up,” urged John. “Lou will feel at home there and the girls will be delighted to have her, and you, too, for that matter.”

“I take it real kind of you,” said Ira. “If Lou’s willin’ I sholy am.”

“Indeed I’d like nothing better,” said Louisa. “You don’t think I ought to stay here with dad for awhile, do you, Mr. John?”

“Not a bit of it,” was the reply. “He’s got along all these years without you and I reckon he’ll be able to stand it awhile longer. Where is he, anyhow, and where is Pike?” He looked around the room from which both of the men were missing.

It was not very many minutes before Cyrus reentered, but he seemed nervous and in no good humor. His schemes had gone awry and he was not happy. Especially was this true after a conversation he had had outside with Pike, for Pike was in his ugliest mood and Cyrus did not enjoy a contemplation of what might result from the day’s doings.

But now Hannah Maria and some of the older women were busying themselves in offering the refreshments which Louisa had carefully prepared; great pans of biscuits, boiled hams, sweet cakes and such dainties as her father would allow her to provide. “It’s your last fling,” he had said ungraciously. “I reckon I’ll hev to let ye cook up somethin’ to keep folks from talkin’, though I don’t much care what they do say.” And so Louisa had done her best.

The majority of the company was in high spirits; even those who had failed to secure such an admirable helpmeet as Louisa were pleased that Ira should have been the successful rival, for he was a great favorite and every one had a good word to say of him.

“I swow,” said Matt Cochran, “I’d rather see Iry git her than anybody as long as I didn’t git her myself.”

“Iry’s a good feller; he desarves his luck,” piped up old Billy Jones. “I had my eye on the gal, but Sally, my darter, told me I’d better be keerful of a red-headed woman.”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ of her head,” said Lew Phelps. “I was thinkin’ what a powerful handy cook I’d git. I ain’t never struck more wholesome wittles than what these air,” he added, his mouth full of biscuits and ham.

And so the talk went on till night suddenly fell and the company broke up. Lanterns bobbed about the lot where men were untying their horses, hoisting damsels to their places on tough little mustangs, assisting stout dames to their seats in the family conveyance, or adjusting some young woman to her saddle in front of the cavalier with whom she had come. The shrill laughter of girls, the unrestrained guffaws of the men, the sleepy wail of some little child, the stamping horses, the creaking of wheels, all combined to show how large and popular an entertainment this had proven to be.

Louisa was the last to leave the house. At the parting moment she had gone to her father with tears in her eyes. “Good-bye, dad,” she said. “I’ll come over to see you soon. I know ye ain’t sorry to part from me or I’d feel worse about goin’. I wisht I could have married to suit ye, but I’ve got the man I love, if that’s any consolation to ye. An’ if it does ye any good to hear it, why I tell ye there ain’t a cloud upon my sky except that I ain’t pleased ye. Me an’ you ain’t been so terrible happy; maybe it’s because we knowed each other too late, but I’d like ye to kiss me good-bye, fer ye’re the only parent I got and this is my weddin’ day. I ain’t got no mother, and I’d like to part from ye without no hard feelin’s.”

Moved by her appeal, the man put his arm awkwardly around her and gave her a swift kiss, then, as if ashamed even of this exhibition of feeling, he pushed her from him. “I ain’t harborin’ no ill feelin’s to you, Louisy,” he said. “You done yer best. I’d rather ye’d married Jabez and bed that nice home, but what’s done’s done. I wish ye luck, yes, I do.” He pushed her further away and went abruptly into the house shutting the door after him.

His own horse being too used up for further travel without a day’s rest, Ira had ridden over on Hero, John driving the wagon in which were Christine, Alison, and Lolita, a slower way of proceeding, but one which accommodated the whole family. It was proposed that Louisa should occupy a place with the girls, but Ira, lover-like, insisted that she should be mounted in front of him.

“Then, if that’s the way you must go, you’d better take my horse,” said Blythe Van Dorn. “He’s heavier than yours, Ira, and will carry double weight; besides my saddle is better adapted for two.” And so Blythe mounted Hero and the bridal pair set off, escorted by their friends.

Over the miles of rough road they jogged along, making the night ring with laugh and song, and a fusilade once in a while to give vent to their feelings and to show in true Texan fashion that something especial called forth a use of pistols. As they neared the various ranches one after another dropped out of the procession and turned toward his own home, till, by the time the Rosses left the main road, there were not many to accompany them further. Blythe, who had stopped to say a word to a departing comrade, was somewhat in the rear, and singing softly to himself jogged along at a careless pace.

As the last clump of trees was passed, a man suddenly sprang out and seized Hero by the bridle. Two or three pistol shots followed in quick succession and Blythe fell to the ground, while the man sprang upon Hero and dashed off down the road as if pursued by furies.

In an instant every man had wheeled around and shot after shot rang out upon the still night air. “After him, boys,” shouted Bud.

“Down with ye, Lou,” said Ira shortly, and as, without a word, Louisa obeyed, he stooped and gave her a quick kiss, then putting spurs to his horse he dashed after those who were already giving chase.

“Here, girls, you’ll have to go on home alone,” said John as he jumped from the wagon and ran back to where Blythe lay.

Ira, Bud and two or three others put spurs to their horses and dashed after the men who had disappeared in the chaparral. This soon became too dense for them to penetrate except on foot, but they fired in all directions and before long, Ira, who was ahead, called out: “Here’s one of them. It looks like we’d done for him.” With difficulty the others made their way to where Ira bent over a prostrate figure. “He’s still breathing,” he told them. “We’d better carry him out to the road away from these thorns and briers.”

It was not easy to convey their burden through the thick underbrush, but they managed to do it, and when, under the starlit sky, they bent to discover the man’s features, Bud gave a sharp exclamation. “It’s old Cy Sparks,” he said.

Hearing his name spoken, the wounded man opened his eyes and recognized Bud. “Well, boys,” he said feebly, “I reckon I’m done for this time. Where’s Pike?”

“Pike? If I’d known it was that low down rascal I’d a hunted him further,” said Bud.

Cyrus closed his eyes and breathed heavily. After a moment he looked up again with a dazed expression and recognized Ira. “You’ve come back,” he said. “Where’s Lou? Is she safe?”

“She’s gone on with the Ross gals,” Bud told him. “What was ye up to, anyhow, Cy?” He must settle this mystery if possible while the opportunity was his.

“We were after the hoss,” said Cyrus with effort. “We got him once before—— Mebbe you don’t know that. Pike was bound to hev him—— We’ve hed dealin’s together oncet or twicet and Pike—he knew—he threatened to tell if I didn’t go with him to-night. I was to git the hoss and he meant to kidnap Iry if he could, but I saw him aim—to kill Iry, ridin’ that hoss of Steve’s.”

“I wasn’t ridin’ thet hoss; it was Blythe Van Dorn,” said Ira quickly.

“Pike said it was you,” Cyrus went on, “and that Lou was in the wagon. We always meant to git that hoss some day but—when I saw—Pike aim to kill Iry, I struck—up his arm and he—turned—on me and I—reckon he’s finished me.”

“It was Pike then. You hear that, boys,” said Ira. “I’m sorry, Cy, I’m sorry fer ye. Ye meant white by me if ye was on a bad business about the hoss. I ast yer pardon fer any hard feelin’s.”

“I desarve ’em,” said Cy. “I ain’t been—a good man—left my wife—and child—come here an’—done low down—tricks an’ was goin’ ter do—more of ’em.” He grew weaker and lay breathing painfully with closed eyes. After a time he whispered “Louisa.”

“Ole man,” said Ira, “I swar I’ll be good to yer gal, if that’s what you mean.”

“Don’t—tell—Lou—I was stealin’ the—hoss.”

“No, sir, I’ll not. You understand, boys. This here’s my wife’s father and I want to keep this here little transaction quiet.”

“We’ll not peep, Iry, not one of us,” his companions assured him.

Cyrus put out a feeble hand and Ira clasped it in his strong ones. “Tell Lou I didn’t mean——” the breath came shorter, then presently there was a new effort. “Pike knows—Steve——” And that was the last word.

It was a subdued and serious group that carried Cyrus Sparks, now dignified by death, to the nearest shelter. This happened to be Pedro’s cabin where Blythe Van Dorn lay wounded badly, but not dangerously it was hoped. Here John and his sisters, with Louisa, had attended to the young man’s wounds and he was fairly comfortable. Ira and his friends laid their lifeless burden outside on the grass and called John, telling him of what had happened. Then Ira faced his next duty. “I’d like to see Lou,” he said. “John, you send her out to me, and you boys go off fer a while.” He waited with folded arms till the girl appeared.

“You wanted me, Ira?” she said, coming up and slipping her hand in his.

“Yes, my gal. I’ve got a hard somethin’ to tell ye.” He drew her close to him. “It seems right mean that I’ve got such a thing to say on our weddin’ night, but, my gal, that there’s yer dad.” He looked down at the quiet figure, with face covered, lying there at their feet.

Louisa gave a startled scream and hid her head on his breast. Ira stroked her hair gently. “He was tryin’ to save my life, Lou. He kep’ Pike from shootin’ what he thought was me on Hero, Steve’s hoss, an’ Pike turned on him in a rage at bein’ interfered with. Your dad had time to say a few words to us. He thought about you an’ spoke your name at the very last. He knowed he was a-goin’ an’ he died with his hand in mine. Thar, gal, thar.” Louisa was shaking with sobs.

“Poor father, poor dad,” she murmured.

“Mebbe he wa’n’t a saint, Lou, but he died tryin’ to save another; I reckon the Marster up in heaven’ll understan’ thet. Thar’s somethin’ in the good book about a feller layin’ down his life fer a fren’, ain’t they? I reckin he’ll git leave to jine yer mother yit. Lou, my gal, my pore little gal.” And Louisa, with a sudden sense of a new and beautiful love enfolding and protecting her, received such comfort as never before had been hers.

The next day Cyrus was buried by those who strove to hide his faults from the world, and who turned from the lonely grave with reverence and sincere pity, but who sternly vowed vengeance against his slayer.

Those last words of Cyrus’ brought a gleam of hope to Christine, but there seemed little chance of there being more discovered, for, though the men scoured the country, there was no sign of either Pike or Hero.

Blythe improved slowly, but it was felt that he must not be moved for the present, therefore Mrs. Van Dorn was asked to take up her residence, for the time being, at the Rosses, that she might be near her boy. Louisa, too, at the urgent request of the girls remained till Ira should make his home more habitable; therefore it was a large household, and the days passed busily enough for all.

A certain question troubled Alison during these days, and at last she took it to her brother John. “Do you think all promises ought to be kept?” she asked. “If one makes a promise which seems right at the time, but which if broken might help justice, ought one to keep it a secret?”

“That’s a mighty tough problem,” returned John. “Can’t you give me a little more of a clue?”

Alison pondered upon the question. “It concerns Pike Smith,” she said. “I will tell you some things, John, for I half suspect you know about them. You know poor old Cyrus Sparks and Pike were the ones who tried to steal Hero that first time when you were away. Bud told me that Cyrus had confessed that.”

“Yes, so he did, but he didn’t want Lou to know it.”

“Lou did know, for he was the man we shot at and brought in the house, but he made her believe that he had bought Hero from Steve and that he was only taking his own. I never half believed that myself, and I think Louisa doubted it after she knew her father better. I think Cyrus was bent on getting Hero; he knew he was a very valuable horse and if he and Pike could get him they could sell him for a high figure. I think he and Pike went shares on such deals, and I shouldn’t wonder if they stole horses all the time. I don’t know that Cyrus was always with them when they went on their expeditions, but I think Pike was an out and out horse thief, and a very bad man.”

“No doubt of it,” said John.

“Do you think Pike’s only object was to get hold of Hero the night of the wedding?”

“Not altogether. I think he was crazed by jealousy, for one thing, and I think he wanted to get Ira out of the way and took that way to do it. He had been watching and evidently thought Ira was riding Hero and that Lou was in the wagon with us, as it was arranged that way at the first. Pike’s idea was to get Ira out of the way, if he could, grab the horse, and make way with it as he did. I have no doubt but that he thinks he has killed Ira as well as Cyrus, and though it is not doing him any good, he is satisfied that he has prevented Ira from winning Lou, so he has gratified his revenge, as he supposes. We’ve long thought that he has been working with a band of horse thieves, and he is no doubt hidden somewhere in the mountains and will make his way over the border. We have never been able to prove that he and Cyrus were doing crooked work but we have thought so.”

“You remember that Cyrus said Pike could tell about Steve; that is what makes it hard for me to keep my promise to him.”

“To Pike? You don’t mean to Pike?” John looked amazed.

“Yes, Pike. Oh, John, I must tell, for Tina’s sake. Pike followed me one day when I was coming from Louisa’s. He thought I had a note or something from her to Ira, and he wanted to get it away from me. I did have that lock of hair, but he didn’t find it out. As I said, he followed me and carried me off to a little old hut in the woods.”

John made a fierce exclamation.

“He didn’t hurt me,” said Alison. “There was an old woman there who searched me, but you know what an evil temper Pike has, and I made him angry so he did mean to keep me prisoner till I showed him I knew that he had been one of those who tried to steal Hero, and I told him that Bud and some of the boys were coming to meet me, and I knew they would track me to the place, so then I promised not to tell of his having carried me off and to say nothing of his being with Cyrus that night, and he let me go. He knew perfectly well he didn’t dare to keep me, for Bud would be hot on my tracks. I’ve never told any one anything except that a man followed me and that I lost my way in consequence.”

“I’d have been fair wild if I had known it,” said John. “We have been to that hut, but there was not a sign of any one there.”

“Oh, dear.” Alison was disappointed.

“However,” John went on, “this is worth following up. I’ll not say a word of your share in the matter, and you were perfectly right to tell no one but me. If we can find that old woman we may be able to get something from her that will help us.”

“To find Steve?”

“I was thinking of finding Pike. Why do you say Steve?”

“I was wondering if Steve might not have been taken there at some time. I suppose you will say that is a wild kind of guess, and that it is like a silly girl to suggest such a thing, but it just came into my head.”

“There might be a clue worth following there,” said John. “You women folks often jump at a conclusion that turns out to be the right one, while we men will beat around the bush and never guess the right thing. Our best plan now is to hunt up that old woman. What did she look like?”

“She was old, very old, and I remember her name; it was Brigida.”

“Good! That’s something gained. You’re a smart little coot, Alison, and if you think of anything more you’d better come tell me.”

“I wonder if Pedro would know anything of the woman.”

“He might; that’s worth trying, too.”

“He’s perfectly devoted to us, and I know he would do all he could to find her out if we wanted her. That old Sofia that we had here might be looked up; she is pretty near as old.”

“I believe we’ll get hold of something yet by reason of your sharp wits,” said John. “I’ll go and pump old Pedro. I’ve been thinking of turning off the old fellow and getting two or three darkies on the place, but I don’t know but I may as well keep him too.”

“You couldn’t turn him off while Blythe is there.”

“That’s so.”

“And I am sure Pedro is much more faithful than any one you could find among the darkies.”

“There’s not much love shown for the greasers nowadays, you know.”

“Well, I don’t care. Pedro is not like a common greaser; he is a real gentleman.”

“Especially in his table manners,” returned John laughing.

“He’s no worse than Bud Haley, and I am sure Lolita is far above dear old Hannah Maria who looks down on her.”

“Lolita is something of an anomaly, I admit,” said John as he left the gallery where the two had been talking.