CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A LETTER FROM CHIEF BIG TURKEY
Annie-Many-Ponies, keen of eye when her heart directed her glances, sawthe Kyle postmark on a letter while Applehead was sorting Luck's mailfrom the weekly batch he had just brought. Luck also spied the Kylepostmark and the familiar handwriting of George-Low-Cedar, who was acousin of Annie-Many-Ponies and the most favored scribe of Big Turkey'snumerous family. There was no mistaking those self-conscious shadings onthe downward strokes of the pen, or the twice-curled tails of all thecapitals. The capital M, for instance, very much resembled a dandelionstem split and curled by the tongue of a little girl.
George-Low-Cedar and none other had written that letter, and Big Turkeyhimself had probably composed it in great deliberation over his pipe,while the smoke of his _tepee_ fire curled over his head, and his squawcrouched in the shadow listening stolidly while her heart ached withlonging for the girl-child who had gone a-wandering. Annie-Many-Poniesslid unobtrusively to the door and flattened her back against the wallbeside it, ready to slip out into the dusk if she read in WagalexaConka's face that the letter was unpleasant.
Luck did not say a word while he held the letter up and looked at it; hedid not say a word, but Annie-Many-Ponies knew, as well as though he hadspoken, that he too feared what the contents might be. So she stood flatagainst the wall and watched his face, and saw how his fingers fumbled atthe flap of the envelope, and how slowly he drew out the cheap, heavilyruled, glazed paper that is sold alongside plug tobacco and pearl buttonsand safety pins in the Indian traders' stores. Staring from under herstraight brows at that folded letter, Annie-Many-Ponies had a swift,clear vision of the little store set down in the midst of barrenness anddust, and of the squaws sitting wrapped in bright shawls upon theplatform while their lords gravely purchased small luxuries within. As aslim, barefooted papoose, proud of her shapeless red calico slip buttonedunevenly up the back with huge white buttons, and of her hair braided intwo sleek braids and tied with strips of the same red calico, she hadstood flattened against the wall of the store while her father, BigTurkey, bought tobacco. She had hoped that the fates might be kind andsend her a five-cent bag of red-and-white gum drops. Instead, Big Turkeyhad brought her a doll,--a pink-cheeked doll of the white people. In hercheap suitcase which she had carried wrapped in her shawl on her back tothe ranch, Annie-Many-Ponies still had that doll. So with her eyes fixedupon the letter, her mind stared trance-like at the vision of thatlong-ago day which had been to her so wonderful.
Then Wagalexa Conka looked at her and smiled, and the vision of the storeand the slim, barefooted papoose with her doll vanished. The smile meantthat all was well, that she might stay with Wagalexa Conka and be hisIndian girl in the picture of _The Phantom Herd_. Annie-Many-Poniessmiled back at him,--the slow, sweet, sphinx-like smile which Luck called"heart-twisting,"--and slipped out into the night with her heart beatingfast in a strange mixture of joy that she might stay, and of homesicknessfor the little store set down in the midst of barrenness and dust, andfor that long-ago day that had been so wonderful.
"Read this," said Luck, still smiling, and gave the letter into theflour-dusted hands of Rosemary. "Ever see a real, dyed-in-the-wool,Indian letter? Sure takes a load off my mind, too; you never can tell howan idea is going to hit an Indian. Pass it on to the boys."
So Rosemary read, with the whole Happy Family crowding close to look overher shoulder:
Kyle, P. OfficePine Ridge, So. DMonday, Nov.
Luck Lindsayat Motion Pictures ranch,Albequrqe, New M.
Friend son,
I this day gets letter from agent at agency who tell my girl you sistersare now at New mexicos with you pictures. shes go way one days at nighttimes and to-morrow mornings i no find him. i am glad she sees you. youTake care same as with shows them Buffalo bill. all indians have hardtimes for cold and much hays and fires of prairies loses much. themindians shake you hands with good hearts they have with you. send me bluesilks ribbon send Me pictures so i can see you. Again i shake you byhand with good heart same as I see you. Speak one Letters quick again.
you father,BIG TURKEY.
"Pretty good spelling, for an Indian letter," Rosemary commentedsuspiciously. "Are you sure an Indian wrote it, Luck Lindsay?"
"Why, certainly, I'm sure!" Luck was shuffling his other letters with theair of a man whose mind has for the moment lost its load of trouble."George-Low-Cedar wrote it. I know his writing. He's Annie's cousin, andhe thinks he's highly educated. Indians have great memories, and oncethey learn to spell a word, they never seem to forget it. They learn tospell in school. What they don't learn is how to put the words togetherthe way we do. Cousin George is also shaky on capitals, you notice. Nowto-morrow we can go ahead with that big cattle-stuff. I can take my timeabout making Annie's scenes; I was afraid I might have to rush them allthrough first thing, so as to send her back. I'm sure glad she can stay;she's good to have around, to help in the house."
Rosemary screwed up her lips and gave him a queer look, but Luck hadturned his attention to another letter, and she did not say what was inher mind. Annie-Many-Ponies, speaking theoretically, was good to havearound to help Rosemary. In actual practice, however, Rosemary found hernot so good. Personally Annie was fastidiously tidy, which Rosemaryungenerously set down to youthful vanity rather than to innatecleanliness. When it came to washing dishes, however, Annie-Many-Poniesleft much to be desired. She was prone to disappear about the time shereached the biscuit-basin and the frying-pan stage of the thrice-dailyperformance. She was prone to fancy she heard Wagalexa Conka calling her,or Shunka Chistala barking in pursuit of the cat, or a hen cackling outin the weeds; whatever the sound, it invariably became a summons whichAnnie-Many-Ponies must instantly obey. Then she forgot to come backwithin the next two or three hours, and Rosemary must finish the dishesherself. But all this, as Rosemary well knew, was an unimportant detailof the general scheme of work going on at Applehead's ranch.
To her it seemed wonderful, the way Luck was pushing his picture tocompletion against long odds sometimes, fighting some difficulty always.Much as she secretly resented certain Indian traits in Annie-Many-Ponies,and pleased as she would secretly have been if the girl had been recalledto the reservation, she was generously relieved because Luck could now goahead with his round-up and trail-herd scenes while the weather was mildand sunny, and need not hurry the Indian-girl scenes at all.
In the ten days since the blizzard, Luck had worked hard. Some nightscenes in a cow-town he had already taken, driving late in the afternooninto Albuquerque with his radium flares and his full company. Rosemary'smemory cherished those nights as rare and precious experiences. Firstthere were the old-time scenes, half Mexican in their atmosphere, whenthe dried little man was young, and the trail-herd started north. Forthese scenes Luck himself played the part of Dave Wiswell, turning thecamera work over to Bill Holmes. Then there were the scenes of a laterperiod,--scenes of carousal which depicted her beloved Andy as a verywild young man who spent his nights riotously. One full day of sunshinehad also been spent at the stockyards there, taking shipping scenes.
On this day the two women had stayed at home, and Rosemary had nearlyquarreled with Annie-Many-Ponies because Annie would not mend herstockings, but had spent the whole afternoon teaching Shunka Chistalato chase prairie dogs, the game being to try and frighten them awayfrom their holes and then catch them. Annie-Many-Ponies attended to thestrategic direction of the enterprise and let Shunka Chistala do mostof the running. The high, clear laughter of the girl and herunintelligible cries to the little black dog had irritated Rosemary tothe point of tears.
There had been no more days wasted because of spoiled film,--Luck wascarefully guarding against that,--and it seemed to Rosemary that therewere miles of it developed and dried and pigeon-holed, ready forassembling. That part of the work she was especially interested in,because it was done in the house.
To her it might seem that miles of film had been made, but to Luck itseemed as though the wor
k crawled with maddening deliberation. Delaysfretted him. The mounting expense account worried him, though as a matterof fact it mounted slowly, considering the work he was doing and the sizeof the company he was maintaining. When he took film clippings to a townphotographer to have enlargements made for "stills,"--the pictures whichmust accompany each set of prints as advertising matter,--the cost of thework gave him the blues for the rest of that day. Then there were theChavez boys, whom he had found it expedient to use occasionally in hisbig range scenes and in his "cow-town stuff." They had no conception ofregular rates as extras, but Luck had a conscience, and he had alsoestablished a precedent. Whenever he used them in pictures, he gave Tomasfive dollars and left it to Tomas to divide with Ramone. And fivedollars, added to other fives and tens and twenty-fives, soon amounts toan amazing whole when anxiety holds the pencil.
As his story had changed and developed into _The Phantom Herd_ plot, ithad lengthened appreciably, because he could not and would not sacrificehis big range stuff. And double exposures meant double work, of course.He found himself with a five-reel picture in the making instead of thefour-reeler he had started to produce. Thus he was compelled to send formore "raw stock." Also, he soon ran out of lumber for his interior setsand must buy more. As the possibilities of his production grew plainer tohim, Luck knew that he could not slight a single scene nor skimp it inthe making. He could go hungry if it came to that, but he could notcheapen his story by using make-shift settings.
Thanksgiving came, and they scarcely knew it, for the weather was fine,and they spent the day far afield and came in after dark, too tired to bethankful for anything save the opportunity to sleep.
Christmas came so suddenly that they wondered where the month had gone.Christmas Eve the Happy Family spent in arranging a round-up camp outbehind the house where the hill rose picturesquely, and in singeingthemselves heroically in the heat of radium flares, while Luck took hiscamp-fire scenes that were triumphs of lighting-effects andphotography,--scenes which he would later tone red with aniline dyes.
Annie-Many-Ponies and Rosemary brought out the two-gallon coffee boilerand a can of cream and a small lard pail of sugar, with cups and tinspoons and a pan of boiled-beef and cold-bean sandwiches. Rosemary called"Merry Christmas!" when the dying radium flares betrayed her approach,and the Happy Family jumped up and shouted "Merry Christmas!" to her andone another, just as exuberantly as though they had been celebratinginstead of adding six hours or so to a hard day's work.
"That was beautiful, Luck Lindsay," Rosemary declared, giving him a beansandwich for which he declared himself "strong," and holding the sugarbucket steady while he dipped into it three times.
"We were watching from the house; and the boys' faces, the way youhad them placed, looked--oh, I don't know, but it just sent shiversall over me, it was so beautiful. I just hope it comes out that wayin the picture!"
"Better," mumbled Luck, taking great, satisfying bites into the sandwich."Wait till you see it--after it's colored--with the chuck-box end of thewagon showing, and the night horses standing back there in the shadows;she will sure look like a million dollars!"
"She'll shore depict me cookin' and the smoke bilin' up," poor oldApplehead remarked lugubriously. "Last five minutes er so I could heargrease a-fryin' on my shins, now I'm tellin' yuh!"
"Well, they don't use radium flares in cold-storage plants," Luckadmitted reflectively.
"I know, by cripes, I'm goin' to mend my ways," Big Medicinedeclared meaningly. "I never realized b'fore how fire 'n brimstone'sgoin' to feel!"
"Well, I've got to hand it to you, boys," Luck praised them with a smile."You sat tight, and when I said 'Hold,' you sure held the pose. Youdissolved perfectly--you'll see."
"Aw, gwan!" contradicted Happy Jack with his mouth full. "I neverdissolved; I plumb melted!"
"If you boys could just see how beautiful you looked," Rosemary reproved,starting on her second round with the coffee boiler. "I saw it frombehind the camera, and Luck had you sitting so the light was shining onyour faces; honestly, you looked _beautiful_!"
"Aw, gwan!" gurgled Happy Jack, reddening uncomfortably.
"It's late," Luck broke in, emptying his cup the second time. "But I'mgoing to make that firelight scene of you, Annie. The wind happens to bejust right for the flame effect I want. Did you make up, as I told you?"
For answer, Annie-Many-Ponies threw back her shrouding red shawl andstepped proudly out before him in the firelight. Her brown arms were bareand banded with bracelets of some dull metal. Her fringed dress ofdeerskin was heavily embroidered with stained porcupine quills. Her slimfeet were clothed in beaded moccasins. It was the gala dress of thedaughter of a chief, and as the daughter of a chief she stood straightand slender and haughty before him. The Happy Family stared at her,astonished. They had not even known that she possessed such a costume.
Ordinarily the Happy Family would have taken immediate advantage of theirfreedom and would have gone to bed and to the sleep for which their tiredbodies hungered the more as the food and hot coffee filled them with asense of well-being. But not even Rosemary wanted to go and miss any ofthat wonderful scene where Annie-Many-Ponies, young savage that she was,stood in the light of her flaming camp fire and prayed to her gods beforeshe went to meet her lover. She rehearsed it once before Luck lighted theradium flares. Then, in the searing heat of that white-hot flame, whichwill melt rock as a candle melts, Annie-Many-Ponies crossed herself, andthen lifted her young face and bare arms to the heavens and prayed as thepriest in the mission school had taught her,--a real prayer in her ownIndian tongue, while Luck turned the crank and gloated professionally inher beauty.
The Happy Family, watching her, remembered that it was Christmas morning;remembered oddly, in the midst of their work, the old, old story of thethree Wise Men and the Star, and of the Wonder-Child in the manger.Something there was in the voice and the face of Annie-Many-Ponies thatsuggested it. Something there was of adoration in her upturned glance, asif she too were looking for the Star.
They did not talk much after that, and when they did, their voices werelower than usual. They banked the fire with sand, and Bill Holmesshouldered the camera with its precious store of scenes. As they troopedsilently down to the house and to their beds, they felt something of themagnitude of life, something of the mystery. Behind them, treadingnoiselessly in her beaded deerskin moccasins, Annie-Many-Ponies followedlike a houseless wraith of the plains, the little black dog at her heels.