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"Such are my two bordermen, Miss Sheppard. The fort there, and all
these cabins, would be only black ashes, save for them, and as for us,
our wives and children—God only knows."

"Haven't they wives and children, too?" asked Helen.

"No," answered Colonel Zane, with his genial smile. "Such joys are not
for bordermen."

"Why not? Fine men like them deserve happiness," declared Helen.

"It is necessary we have such," said the colonel simply, "and they
cannot be bordermen unless free as the air blows. Wetzel and Jonathan
have never had sweethearts. I believe Wetzel loved a lass once; but he
was an Indian-killer whose hands were red with blood. He silenced his
heart, and kept to his chosen, lonely life. Jonathan does not seem to
realize that women exist to charm, to please, to be loved and married.
Once we twitted him about his brothers doing their duty by the border,
whereupon he flashed out: 'My life is the border's: my sweetheart is
the North Star!'"

Helen dreamily watched the dancing, dimpling waves that broke on the
stones of the river shore. All unconscious of the powerful impression
the colonel's recital had made upon her, she was feeling the greatness
of the lives of these bordermen, and the glory it would now be for her
to share with others the pride in their protection.

"Say, Sheppard, look here," said Colonel Zane, on the return to his
cabin, "that girl of yours has a pair of eyes. I can't forget the way
they flashed! They'll cause more trouble here among my garrison than
would a swarm of redskins."

"No! You don't mean it! Out here in this wilderness?" queried Sheppard
doubtfully.

"Well, I do."

"O Lord! What a time I've had with that girl! There was one man
especially, back home, who made our lives miserable. He was rich and
well born; but Helen would have none of him. He got around me, old
fool that I am! Practically stole what was left of my estate, and
gambled it away when Helen said she'd die before giving herself to
him. It was partly on his account that I brought her away. Then there
were a lot of moon-eyed beggars after her all the time, and she's
young and full of fire. I hoped I'd marry her to some farmer out here,
and end my days in peace."

"Peace? With eyes like those? Never on this green earth," and Colonel
Zane laughed as he slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry,
old fellow. You can't help her having those changing dark-blue eyes
any more than you can help being proud of them. They have won me,
already, susceptible old backwoodsman! I'll help you with this
spirited young lady. I've had experience, Sheppard, and don't you
forget it. First, my sister, a Zane all through, which is saying
enough. Then as sweet and fiery a little Indian princess as ever
stepped in a beaded moccasin, and since, more than one beautiful,
impulsive creature. Being in authority, I suppose it's natural that
all the work, from keeping the garrison ready against an attack, to
straightening out love affairs, should fall upon me. I'll take the
care off your shoulders; I'll keep these young dare-devils from
killing each other over Miss Helen's favors. I certainly—Hello! There
are strangers at the gate. Something's up."

Half a dozen rough-looking men had appeared from round the corner of
the cabin, and halted at the gate.

"Bill Elsing, and some of his men from Yellow Creek," said Colonel
Zane, as he went toward the group.

"Hullo, Kurnel," was the greeting of the foremost, evidently the
leader. "We've lost six head of hosses over our way, an' are out
lookin' 'em up."

"The deuce you have! Say, this horse-stealing business is getting
interesting. What did you come in for?"

"Wal, we meets Jonathan on the ridge about sunup, an' he sent us back
lickety-cut. Said he had two of the hosses corralled, an' mebbe Wetzel
could git the others."

"That's strange," replied Colonel Zane thoughtfully.

"'Pears to me Jack and Wetzel hev some redskins treed, an' didn't want
us to spile the fun. Mebbe there wasn't scalps enough to go round.
Anyway, we come in, an' we'll hang up here to-day."

"Bill, who's doing this horse-stealing?"

"Damn if I know. It's a mighty pert piece of work. I've a mind it's
some slick white fellar, with Injuns backin' him."

Helen noted, when she was once more indoors, that Colonel Zane's wife
appeared worried. Her usual placid expression was gone. She put off
the playful overtures of her two bright boys with unusual
indifference, and turned to her husband with anxious questioning as to
whether the strangers brought news of Indians. Upon being assured that
such was not the case, she looked relieved, and explained to Helen
that she had seen armed men come so often to consult the colonel
regarding dangerous missions and expeditions, that the sight of a
stranger caused her unspeakable dread.

"I am accustomed to danger, yet I can never control my fears for my
husband and children," said Mrs. Zane. "The older I grow the more of a
coward I am. Oh! this border life is sad for women. Only a little
while ago my brother Samuel McColloch was shot and scalped right here
on the river bank. He was going to the spring for a bucket of water. I
lost another brother in almost the same way. Every day during the
summer a husband and a father fall victim to some murderous Indian. My
husband will go in the same way some day. The border claims them all."

"Bessie, you must not show your fears to our new friend. And, Miss
Helen, don't believe she's the coward she would make out," said the
colonel's sister smilingly.

"Betty is right, Bess, don't frighten her," said Colonel Zane. "I'm
afraid I talked too much to-day. But, Miss Helen, you were so
interested, and are such a good listener, that I couldn't refrain.
Once for all let me say that you will no doubt see stirring life here;
but there is little danger of its affecting you. To be sure I think
you'll have troubles; but not with Indians or outlaws."

He winked at his wife and sister. At first Helen did not understand
his sally, but then she blushed red all over her fair face.

Some time after that, while unpacking her belongings, she heard the
clatter of horses' hoofs on the rocky road, accompanied by loud
voices. Running to the window, she saw a group of men at the gate.

"Miss Sheppard, will you come out?" called Colonel Zane's sister from
the door. "My brother Jonathan has returned."

Helen joined Betty at the door, and looked over her shoulder.

"Wal, Jack, ye got two on 'em, anyways," drawled a voice which she
recognized as that of Elsing's.

A man, lithe and supple, slipped from the back of one of the horses,
and, giving the halter to Elsing with a single word, turned and
entered the gate. Colonel Zane met him there.

"Well, Jonathan, what's up?"

"There's hell to pay," was the reply, and the speaker's voice rang
clear and sharp.

Colonel Zane laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, and thus they
stood for a moment, singularly alike, and yet the sturdy pioneer was,
somehow, far different from the dark-haired borderman.

"I thought we'd trouble in store from the look on your face," said the
colonel calmly. "I hope you haven't very bad news on the first day,
for our old friends from Virginia."

"Jonathan," cried Betty when he did not answer the colonel. At her
call he half turned, and his dark eyes, steady, strained like those of
a watching deer, sought his sister's face.

"Betty, old Jake Lane was murdered by horse thieves yesterday, and
Mabel Lane is gone."

"Oh!" gasped Betty; but she said nothing more.

Colonel Zane cursed inaudibly.

"You know, Eb, I tried to keep Lane in the settlement for Mabel's
sake. But he wanted to work that farm. I believe horse-stealing wasn't
as much of an object as the girl. Pretty women are bad for the border,
or any other place, I guess. Wetzel has taken the trail, and I came in
because I've serious suspicions—I'll explain to you alone."

The borderman bowed gravely to Helen, with a natural grace, and yet a
manner that sat awkwardly upon him. The girl, slightly flushed, and
somewhat confused by this meeting with the man around whom her
romantic imagination had already woven a story, stood in the doorway
after giving him a fleeting glance, the fairest, sweetest picture of
girlish beauty ever seen.

The men went into the house; but their voices came distinctly through
the door.

"Eb, if Bing Legget or Girty ever see that big-eyed lass, they'll have
her even if Fort Henry has to be burned, an' in case they do get her,
Wetzel an' I'll have taken our last trail."

Chapter III
*

Supper over, Colonel Zane led his guests to a side porch, where they
were soon joined by Mrs. Zane and Betty. The host's two boys, Noah and
Sammy, who had preceded them, were now astride the porch-rail and, to
judge by their antics, were riding wild Indian mustangs.

"It's quite cool," said Colonel Zane; "but I want you to see the
sunset in the valley. A good many of your future neighbors may come
over to-night for a word of welcome. It's the border custom."

He was about to seat himself by the side of Mr. Sheppard, on a rustic
bench, when a Negro maid appeared in the doorway carrying a smiling,
black-eyed baby. Colonel Zane took the child and, holding it aloft,
said with fatherly pride:

"This is Rebecca Zane, the first girl baby born to the Zanes, and
destined to be the belle of the border."

"May I have her?" asked Helen softly, holding out her arms. She took
the child, and placed it upon her knee where its look of solemnity
soon changed to one of infantile delight.

"Here come Nell and Jim," said Mrs. Zane, pointing toward the fort.

"Yes, and there comes my brother Silas with his wife, too," added
Colonel Zane. "The first couple are James Douns, our young minister,
and Nell, his wife. They came out here a year or so ago. James had a
brother Joe, the finest young fellow who ever caught the border fever.
He was killed by one of the Girtys. His was a wonderful story, and
some day you shall hear about the parson and his wife."

"What's the border fever?" asked Mr. Sheppard.

"It's what brought you out here," replied Colonel Zane with a hearty
laugh.

Helen gazed with interest at the couple now coming into the yard, and
when they gained the porch she saw that the man was big and tall, with
a frank, manly bearing, while his wife was a slender little woman with
bright, sunny hair, and a sweet, smiling face. They greeted Helen and
her father cordially.

Next came Silas Zane, a typical bronzed and bearded pioneer, with his
buxom wife. Presently a little group of villagers joined the party.
They were rugged men, clad in faded buckskins, and sober-faced women
who wore dresses of plain gray linsey. They welcomed the newcomers
with simple, homely courtesy. Then six young frontiersmen appeared
from around a corner of the cabin, advancing hesitatingly. To Helen
they all looked alike, tall, awkward, with brown faces and big hands.
When Colonel Zane cheerily cried out to them, they stumbled forward
with evident embarrassment, each literally crushing Helen's hand in
his horny palm. Afterward they leaned on the rail and stole glances
at her.

Soon a large number of villagers were on the porch or in the yard.
After paying their respects to Helen and her father they took part in
a general conversation. Two or three girls, the latest callers, were
surrounded by half a dozen young fellows, and their laughter sounded
high above the hum of voices.

Helen gazed upon this company with mingled feelings of relief and
pleasure. She had been more concerned regarding the young people with
whom her lot might be cast, than the dangers of which others had told.
She knew that on the border there was no distinction of rank. Though
she came of an old family, and, during her girlhood, had been
surrounded by refinement, even luxury, she had accepted cheerfully the
reverses of fortune, and was determined to curb the pride which had
been hers. It was necessary she should have friends. Warm-hearted,
impulsive and loving, she needed to have around her those in whom she
could confide. Therefore it was with sincere pleasure she understood
how groundless were her fears and knew that if she did not find good,
true friends the fault would be her own. She saw at a glance that the
colonel's widowed sister was her equal, perhaps her superior, in
education and breeding, while Nellie Douns was as well-bred and
gracious a little lady as she had ever met. Then, the other girls,
too, were charming, with frank wholesomeness and freedom.

Concerning the young men, of whom there were about a dozen, Helen had
hardly arrived at a conclusion. She liked the ruggedness, the signs of
honest worth which clung to them. Despite her youth, she had been much
sought after because of her personal attractions, and had thus added
experience to the natural keen intuition all women possess. The
glances of several of the men, particularly the bold regard of one
Roger Brandt, whom Colonel Zane introduced, she had seen before, and
learned to dislike. On the whole, however, she was delighted with the
prospect of new friends and future prosperity, and she felt even
greater pleasure in the certainty that her father shared her
gratification.

Suddenly she became aware that the conversation had ceased. She looked
up to see the tall, lithe form of Jonathan Zane as he strode across
the porch. She could see that a certain constraint had momentarily
fallen upon the company. It was an involuntary acknowledgment of the
borderman's presence, of a presence that worked on all alike with a
subtle, strong magnetism.

"Ah, Jonathan, come out to see the sunset? It's unusually fine
to-night," said Colonel Zane.

With hardly more than a perceptible bow to those present, the
borderman took a seat near the rail, and, leaning upon it, directed
his gaze westward.

BOOK: Zane Grey
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