Part 42 (1/2)

”Yes, else why'd I ask?”

”Come,” said Wingate, and led the way to Molly's little cart. The girl was startled when she saw the old scout, her wide eyes asking her question.

”Mornin', Miss Molly!” he began, his leathery face wrinkling in a smile.

”Ye didn't expect me, an' I didn't neither. I'm glad ye're about well o'

that arrer wound. I kerried a arrerhead under my shoulder blade sever'l years oncet, ontel Preacher Whitman cut hit out. Hit felt right crawly all the time till then.

”Yes, I jest sorntered up couple hundred mile this mornin', Miss Molly, ter see how ye all was gettin' along--one thing er another.”

Without much regard to others, he now led Molly a little apart and seated her on the sage beside him.

”Will Banion and Bill Jackson has went on to Californy, Miss Molly,”

said he. ”You know why.”

Mollie nodded.

”Ye'd orto! Ye told him.”

”Yes, I did.”

”I know. Him an' me had a talk. Owin' you an' me all he'll ever make, he allowed to pay nothin'! Which is, admittin' he loves you, he don't take no advice, ter finish that weddin' with another man substertuted.

No, says he, 'I kain't marry her, because I love her!' says he. Now, that's crazy. Somethin' deep under that, Miss Molly.”

”Let's not talk about it, please.”

”All right. Let's talk erbout Sam Woodhull, huh?”

”No!”

”Then mebbe I'd better be goin'. I know you don't want ter talk erbout me!” His wrinkling smile said he had more to tell.

”Miss Molly,” said he at last, ”I mout as well tell ye. Sam Woodhull is on the way atter Will Banion. He's like enough picked out a fine bunch o' horse thiefs ter go erlong with him. He knows somethin' erbout the gold--I jest found out how.

”Ye see, some men ain't above s.h.i.+nin' up to a Injun womern even, such bein' mebbe lonesome. Sam Woodhull wasn't. He seed one o' my fam'ly wearin' a s.h.i.+ny thing on her neck. Hit were a piece o' gold Kit give me atter I give you mine. He trades the womern out o' her necklace--fer all o' two pesos, Mexican. But she not talkin' Missoury, an' him not talkin'

Shoshone, they don't git fur on whar the gold come from.

”She done told him she got hit from me, but he don't say a word ter me erbout that; he's too wise. But she did tell him how Will Banion gits some mules an' packs o' me. From then, plain guessin', he allows ter watch Banion.

”My womern keeps sayin'--not meanin' no harm--thet thar's plenty more necklaces in Cal'for; because she's heard me an' Banion say that word, 'Californy.'

”Slim guessin' hit were, Miss Molly, but enough fer a man keen as Sam, that's not pertickler, neither. His plan was ter watch whar the packs went. He knowed ef Banion went ter Oregon he'd not use packs.

”Huh! Fine time he'll have, follerin' that boy an' them mules with wagons! I'm easier when I think o' that. Because, Miss Molly, ef them two does meet away from friends o' both, thar's goin' to be trouble, an'

trouble only o' one kind.”

Again Molly Wingate nodded, pale and silent.

”Well, a man has ter take keer o' his own self,” went on Bridger. ”But that ain't all ner most what brung me here.”