Part 6 (1/2)
CHAPTER IV
AT THE FOSS RIVER RANCH
Spring is already upon the prairie. The fur coat has already been exchanged for the pea-jacket. No longer is the fur cap crushed down upon the head and drawn over the ears until little more than the oval of the face is exposed to the elements; it is still worn occasionally, but now it rests upon the head with the jaunty cant of an ordinary headgear.
The rough coated broncho no longer stands ”tucked up” with the cold, with its hind-quarters towards the wind. Now he stands grazing on the patches of gra.s.s which the melting snow has placed at his disposal. The cattle, too, hurry to and fro as each day extends their field of fodder.
When spring sets in in the great North-West it is with no show of reluctance that grim winter yields its claims and makes way for its gracious and all-conquering foe. Spring is upon everything with all the characteristic suddenness of the Canadian climate. A week--a little seven days--and where all before had been cheerless wastes of snow and ice, we have the promise of summer with us. The snow disappears as with the sweep of a ”chinook” in winter. The brown, saturated gra.s.s is tinged with the bright emerald hue of new-born pasture. The bared trees don that yellowish tinge which tells of breaking leaves. Rivers begin to flow. Their icy coatings, melting in the growing warmth of the sun, quickly returning once more to their natural element.
With the advent of spring comes a rush of duties to those whose interest are centered in the breeding of cattle. The Foss River Settlement is already teeming with life. For the settlement is the center of the great spring ”round-up.” Here are a.s.sembling the ”cow-punchers” from all the outlying ranches, gathering under the command of a captain (generally a man elected for his vast experience on the prairie) and making their preparations to scour the prairie east and west, north and south, to the very limits of the far-reaching plains which spread their rolling pastures at the eastern base of the Rockies. Every head of cattle which is found will be brought into the Foss River Settlement and thence will be distributed to its lawful owners. This is but the beginning of the work, for the task of branding calves and re-branding cattle whose brands have become obscured during the long winter months is a process of no small magnitude for those who number their stocks by tens of thousands.
At John Allandale's ranch all is orderly bustle. There is no confusion.
Under Jacky's administration the work goes on with a simple directness which would astonish the uninitiated. There are the corrals to repair and to be put in order. Sheds and out-buildings to be whitewashed.
Branding apparatus to be set in working order, fencing to be repaired, preparations for seeding to commence; a thousand and one things to be seen to; and all of which must be finished before the first ”bands” of cattle are rounded up into the settlement.
It is nearly a month since we saw this daughter of the prairie garbed in the latest mode, attending the Polo Ball at Calford, and widely different is her appearance now from what it was at the time of our introduction to her.
She is returning from an inspection of the wire fencing of the home pastures. She is riding her favorite horse, n.i.g.g.e.r, up the gentle slope which leads to her uncle's house. There is nothing of the woman of fas.h.i.+on about her now--and, perhaps, it is a matter not to be regretted.
She sits her horse with the easy grace of a childhood's experience. Her habit, if such it can be called, is a ”dungaree” skirt of a hardly recognizable blue, so washed out is it, surmounted by a beautifully beaded buckskin s.h.i.+rt. Loosely encircling her waist, and resting upon her hips, is a cartridge belt, upon which is slung the holster of a heavy revolver, a weapon without which she never moves abroad. Her head is crowned by a Stetson hat, secured in true prairie fas.h.i.+on by a strap which pa.s.ses under her hair at the back, while her beautiful hair itself falls in heavy ringlets over her shoulders, and waves untrammelled in the fresh spring breeze as her somewhat unruly charger gallops up the hill towards the ranch.
The great black horse was heading for the stable. Jacky leant over to one side and swung him sharply towards the house. At the veranda she pulled him up short. High mettled, headstrong as the animal was, he knew his mistress. Tricks which he would often attempt to practice upon other people were useless here--doubtless she had taught him that such was the case.
The girl sprang, unaided, to the ground and hitched her picket rope to a tying-post. For a moment she stood on the great veranda which ran down the whole length of the house front. It was a one-storied, bungalow-shaped house, built with a high pitch to the roof and entirely constructed of the finest red pine-wood. Six French windows opened on to the veranda. The outlook was westerly, and, contrary to the usual custom, the ranch buildings were not overlooked by it. The corrals and stables were in the background.
She was about to turn in at one of the windows when she suddenly observed n.i.g.g.e.r's ears c.o.c.ked, and his head turned away towards the s.h.i.+mmering peaks of the distant mountains. The movement fixed her attention instantly. It was the instinct of one who lives in a country where the eyes and ears of a horse are often keener and more far-reaching than those of its human masters. The horse was gazing with statuesque fixedness across a waste of partially-melted snow. A stretch of ten miles lay flat and smooth as a billiard-table at the foot of the rise upon which the house was built. And far out across this the beast was gazing.
Jacky shaded her eyes with her hand and followed the direction of the horse's gaze. For a moment or two she saw nothing but the dazzling glare of the snow in the bright spring sunlight. Then her eyes became accustomed to the brilliancy, and far in the distance, she beheld an animal peacefully moving along from patch to patch of bare gra.s.s, evidently in search of fodder.
”A horse,” she muttered, under her breath. ”Whose?”
She could find no answer to her monosyllabic inquiry. She realized at once that to whomsoever it belonged its owner would never recover it, for it was grazing on the far side of the great ”Muskeg,” that mighty bottomless mire which extends for forty miles north and south and whose narrowest breadth is a span of ten miles. She was looking across it now, and innocent enough that level plain of terror appeared at that moment.
And yet it was the curse of the ranching district, for, annually, hundreds of cattle met an untimely death in its cruel, absorbing bosom.
She turned away for the purpose of fetching a pair of field-gla.s.ses. She was anxious to identify the horse. She pa.s.sed along the veranda towards the furthest window. It was the window of her uncle's office.
Just as she was nearing it she heard the sound of voices coming from within. She paused, and an ominous pucker drew her brows together. Her beautiful dark face clouded. She had no wish to play the part of an eavesdropper, but she had recognized the voices of her uncle and Lablache. She had also heard the mention of her own name. What woman, or, for that matter, man, can refrain from listening when they hear two people talking about them. The window was open; Jacky paused--and listened.
Lablache's thick voice lolled heavily upon the brisk air.
”She is a good girl. But don't you think you are considering her future from a rather selfish point of view, John?”
”Selfish?” The old man laughed in his hearty manner ”Maybe you're right, though. I never thought of that. You see I'm getting old now. I can't get around like I used to. Bless me, she's two-an'-twenty.
Three-and-twenty years since my brother d.i.c.k--G.o.d rest his soul!--married that half-breed girl, Josie. Yes, I guess you're right, she's bound to marry soon.”
Jacky smiled a curious dark smile. Something told her why Lablache and her uncle were discussing her future.
”Why, of course she is,” said Lablache, ”and when that happy event is accomplished I hope it will not be with any improvident--harum-scarum man like--like--”
”The Hon. Bunning-Ford I suppose you would say, eh?”