CHAPTER XIII
THE DEVOTION OF WANAHA
Nevil Steyne's day's labor, of whatever it consisted, was over. Wanaha hadjust lit the oil lamp which served her in her small home.
The man was stretched full length upon the bed, idly contemplating thedusky beauty who acknowledged his lordship, while she busied herself overher shining stove. His face wore a half smile, but his smile was in nowiseconnected with that which his eyes rested on.
Yet the sight he beheld was one to inspire pleasurable thoughts. Forsurely it falls to the lot of few men, however worthy, to inspire onewoman with such a devotion as Wanaha yielded to him. Besides, she was awonderful picture of beauty, colored it is true, but none the less fairfor that. Her long black, braided hair, her delicate, high-bred face sodelightfully gentle, and her great, soft black eyes which had almost, butnot quite, lost that last latent glimmer of the old savage. Surely, shewas worth the tenderest thought.
But Nevil's thoughts were not with her, and his smile was inspired by histhoughts. The man's mean, narrow face had nothing pleasant in it as hesmiled. Some faces are like this. He was a degenerate of the worst type;for he was a man who had slowly receded from a life of refinement, andmental retrogression finds painful expression on such a face. A ruffianfrom birth bears less outward trace, for his type is natural to him.
Wanaha always humored her husband's moods, in which, perhaps, she made agrave error. She held silent until he chose to speak. And when she turnedat last to arrange the supper table, he was so moved. The smile had diedout of his thin face, and his pale blue eyes wore a look of anxiousperplexity when he summoned her attention.
"Wana," he said, as though rousing himself from a long worrying thought,"we must do something, my Wana. And--I hardly know what."
The black eyes looked straight into the blue ones, and the latter shiftedto the table on which the woman's loving hands had carefully set thenecessaries for supper.
"Tell me," she said simply, "you who are clever--maybe I help."
"That's just it, my Wana. I believe you can. You have a keen brain. Youalways help me."
Nevil relapsed into silence, and bit nervously at his thumb nail. Thewoman waited with the stoical patience of her race. But she was allinterest, for had not the man appealed to her for help?
"It's your brother," Nevil said at last. "Your brother, and the white girlat the farm, Rosebud."
"Yes."
The dark eyes suddenly lit. Here was a matter which lay very near herheart. She had thought so much about it. She had even dared at other timesto speak to her husband on the subject, and advise him. Now he came toher.
"Yes," the man went on, still with that look of perplexity in his shiftyeyes; "perhaps I have been wrong. You have told me that I was. But, yousee, I looked on your brother as a child almost. And if I let him talk ofRosebud, it was, as I once told you, because he is headstrong. But now hehas gone far enough--too far. It must be stopped. The man is getting outof hand. He means to have her."
Wanaha's eyes dilated. Here indeed was a terrible prospect. She knew herbrother as only a woman can know a man. She had not noted the melodramaticmanner in which her husband had broken off.
"You say well. It must be stop. Tell your Wana your thought. We willpow-wow like great chiefs."
"Well, that's just it," Nevil went on, rising and drawing up to the table."I can't see my way clearly. We can't stop him in whatever he intends.He's got some wild scheme in his head, I know; and I can't persuade him.He's obstinate as a mule."
"It is so. Little Black Fox is fierce. He never listen. No. But you thinkmuch. You, who are clever more than all the wise men of my race."
Wanaha served her husband with his food. Whatever might be toward, herduty by him came first. Nevil sat eating in what appeared to be a moodysilence. The velvety eyes watched his every expression, and, in sympathy,the woman's face became troubled too.
"Well, of course we must warn--some one," Nevil went on at last. "But thequestion is, who? If I go to the Agent, it'll raise trouble. Parker isbullheaded, and sure to upset Black Fox. Likely he'll stop his goinghunting. If I warn old Rube Sampson it'll amount to the same thing. He'llgo to the Agent. It must be either Seth or Rosebud."
"Good, good," assented the Indian woman eagerly. "You say it to Seth."
Nevil ate silently for some minutes, while the woman looked on from herseat beside the stove. Whatever was troubling the man it did not interferewith his appetite. He ate coarsely, but his Indian wife only saw that hewas healthily hungry.
"Yes, you're right again, my Wana," Nevil exclaimed, with apparentappreciation. "I'd prefer to tell Seth, but if I did he'd interfere in amanner that would be sure to rouse your brother's suspicions. And you knowwhat he is. He'd suspect me or you. He'd throw caution to the devil, andthen there'd be trouble. It's a delicate thing, but I can't stand by andsee anything happen to your chum, my Wana."
"No; I love the paleface girl," replied Wanaha, simply.
"It comes to this," Nevil went on, with something like eagerness in hismanner. "We must warn her, and trust to her sense. And mind, I think she'ssmart enough."
"How?"
The woman's dark eyes looked very directly into the man's. Nevil wassmiling again. His anxiety and perplexity seemed suddenly to havevanished, now that he had come to his point; as though the detailing ofhis fears to her had been the real source of his trouble.
"Why, I think it will be simple enough."
The man left the table and came to the woman's side. He laid one handcaressingly on her black hair, and she responded with a smiling upwardglance of devotion. "See, you must tell her I want to speak with her. Ican't go to her. My presence at the farm is not welcome for one thing," hesaid bitterly, "and, for another, in this matter I must not be seenanywhere near her. I've considered this thing well. She mustn't come hereeither. No."
He spoke reflectively, biting his long, fair moustache in that nervous wayhe so often betrayed.
"You, my Wana, must see her openly at the farm. You must tell her that Ishall be in the river woods just below the bridge, cutting wood at sundownon Monday. That's three days from now. She must come to me without beingseen, and without letting any one know of her visit. The danger for me,for us, my Wana, is great, and so you must be extra careful for all oursakes--and so must she. Then I will tell her all, and advise her."
The woman's eyes had never left his face. The trust and confidence herlook expressed were almost touching. She did not question. She did not askwhy she could not give the girl her warning. Yes, she understood. Theproceeding appealed to her nature, for there is no being in the world tocompare with the Indian when native cunning is required. She could do thisthing. Was it not for Rosebud? But, above all, was it not for him? Thehonest man rarely puts faith in a woman's capacity outside her domesticand social duties. The rascal is shrewder.
"It is a good way," she said, in her deep, soft voice, after much thought."And I go--yes. I tell her. I say to her that she must not speak. And shesay 'yes.' I know Rosebud. She clever too. She no child." She paused, andthe man moved away to his seat. She looked over at him and presently wenton. "Rosebud, she love Seth. I know."
Nevil suddenly swung round. Only the blind eyes of love could have failedto detect the absolute look of triumph which had leapt to the man's face.Wanaha mistook the look for one of pleasure, and went on accordingly,feeling that she had struck the right note.
"Yes. And Seth, he love too. They are to each as the Sun and the Moon. Butthey not know this thing. She think Seth think she like sister. Like BlackFox and your Wana. But I know. I love my man, so I see with live eyes.Yes, these love. So." And the dark eyes melted with a consuming love forthe man she was addressing.
Nevil sprang from his seat, and, crossing to the dark princess, kissed herwith unwonted ardor.
"Good, my Wana; you are a gem. You see where I am blind." And for once hewas perfectly sincere.
"It good?" she questioned. Nevil nodded, and at once the woman went on."So. I kn
ow much. Rosebud tell me much. She much angry with Seth. She saySeth always--always look for find her white folks. She not wantthem--these white folks. She love Seth. For her he is the world. So. Shesay Seth angry, and want her go away. Wana listen. Wana laugh inside. Wanalove too. Seth good. He love her much--much. Then she say she think Sethfind these white folks."
"Seth has found Rosebud's--folk?"
The man's brows had drawn together over his shifty blue eyes, and asinister look had replaced the look of triumph that had been therebefore.
"She say she think."
"Ah! She only thinks." Nevil's thumb was at his mouth again.
"Yes."
Wanaha finished. The change in the man's face had checked her desire topursue the subject. She did not understand its meaning, except that hertalk seemed no longer to please him; so she ceased. But Nevil was moreinterested than she thought.
"And what made her think so?" he asked sharply.
"She not say."
"Ah, that's a pity."
The room became silent. The yellow light of the lamp threw vague shadowsabout, and these two made a dark, suggestive picture. The woman's placidand now inscrutable face was in marked contrast to her husband's. Hisdisplayed the swift vengeful thoughts passing behind it. His overshot jawswere clenched as closely as was physically possible, while his pallid eyeswere more alight than Wanaha had ever seen them. As he sat there, bitinghis thumb so viciously, she wondered what had angered him.
"I don't see how he could have found them," he said at last, more tohimself than to her. But she answered him with a quiet reassurance, yetnot understanding why it was necessary.
"She only think," she said.
"But he must have given her some cause to think," he said testily. "I'mafraid you're not as cute as I thought."
Wanaha turned away. His words had caused her pain, but he did not heed.Suddenly his face cleared, and he laughed a little harshly.
"Never mind," he said; "I doubt if he'll lose her through that."
The ambiguity of his remark was lost upon the Indian. She heard the laughand needed no more. She rose and began to clear the table, while Nevilstood in the open doorway and gazed out into the night.
Standing there, his face hidden from Wanaha, he took no trouble todisguise his thoughts. And from his expression his thoughts were pleasantenough, or at least satisfactory to him, which was all he could reasonablyexpect.
His face was directed toward White River Farm, and he was thinking chieflyof Seth, a man he hated for no stronger reason than his own loss of caste,his own degeneracy, while the other remained an honest man. The deepesthatreds often are founded on one's own failings, one's own obviousinferiority to another. He was thinking of that love which Wanaha hadassured him Seth entertained for Rosebud, and he was glad. So glad that heforgot many things that he ought to have remembered. One amongst them wasthe fact that, whatever he might be, Wanaha was a good woman. And honestynever yet blended satisfactorily with rascality.