She shook her head.
"You love your sister," he reminded. "Think of her."
"I _am_ thinking of her. I"d go to the Fort if there was danger.
But--answer me honest--outside of what"s happened here, do you think there"s really any danger?"
"From Indians, you mean? Well, I"ll tell you--this _was_ a complete surprise, a shock to me. Because so far we haven"t seen a sign of the hostiles beyond that signal in the spring. North of here, at Lincoln, they"ve shown themselves. But they"re largely concentrated in the northwest, to meet the troops."
"Then, there"s no danger from Indians."
"Still, there might be, and I want you to come. Frankly, I"ve omitted to tell you of one disquieting report that has reached us. After the recent battle on the Rosebud, one of the warriors of Crazy Horse was captured by General Crook. The prisoner said that within a day"s ride to the west of here, our--and your--aged friend----"
She stopped him, lifting her hands to her face. "Not him!" she whispered; "not _him_! Oh, he was so good to us, Captain!"
Oliver sighed. "I fear it"s so--yet it"s only a report."
Some time went by. Meanwhile, she walked about the room in silence. Her lips were trembling.
"You"ll come?" he said.
"When you"re sure"--she spoke with difficulty--"the Indians are going to make trouble, I will. But--but I think I"d rather stay. I made dad a promise once--I"d hate to break it--_now_."
"Your father didn"t like us, I understand. I"m sorry. And of course you feel that you should keep your promise to him. Well, I can send a convoy with you to Bismarck."
"We haven"t a cent. You see, I"m counting a heap on my garden."
"Oh, we would get something together for you."
She flinched. "No, I wouldn"t like that. And dad"d hate it worse than if I broke the promise. Besides, I"m going to pay back B Troop."
"B Troop! My troop? What do you owe B Troop?"
"Why, B Troop"s been sending us its surplus rations."
"You sure?"
"Well, the sutler said so."
"I think there"s a mistake. B Troop has had no surplus rations."
"Had no----" she began, amazed.
"Must have been the sutler"s own stuff."
"But he wrote----" From between the leaves of a book on the mantel, she produced a folded paper.
"Or someone else"s," went on Oliver.
She had been about to hand him Blakely"s letter. Now, as if struck by an idea, she put it back into the book. When she turned, her eyes were swimming.
"It likely _was_ "someone else,"" she said.
"G.o.d bless you anyway! To think of such a thing in the midst of your worry! Even if you did owe B Troop, it would vote you its full rations, and be proud to go hungry. Please think again about Bismarck for the summer."
"I can"t give up the claim, Captain. I want to know what happened--I want to be here if--if dad comes back."
"But aren"t you forgetting that, Indians or no Indians, there"s danger from this secret enemy?"
"Secret enemy," she echoed; "secret enemy. Go to Bismarck is just the thing he wants to see us do. You heard what he did in the winter? Well, he came again yesterday. He saw the wagon leave, and he thought it was a good chance to move in."
"Move in?" rejoined Oliver. "If that was all, why did he bother about moccasins?"
"You"re right," she cried. "He meant to kill!"
And now as if some great hidden spring of feeling had been touched, she came round upon the officer, defiant, resolute and undaunted.
"Maybe I"d "a" gone before--I"d go this minute for Indians. But that man!--he"s had his price for this claim, he"s had his price! Now, the Bend belongs to _me_--and I"m going to stay."
The captain bent toward her. "Too risky, too risky, Miss Lancaster," he advised, "unless we get the man. For how could you ever do any outside work----"
Dallas interrupted, intrepid spirit ringing in her voice.
"Get him or not, I"ll stick it out all the same. And my outside work--I"ll plow and I"ll plant just like I used to. But _this_ time, I"ll do it with a gun!"
CHAPTER XXV
THE INQUIRY
A Ree scout scoured every foot of ground leading up to the shack. He trailed the mules, The Squaw, the troopers. He followed those moccasin prints that came across the draw and went again. He found the last behind the lean-to, along the side nearest the coulee, on the back-fire strip in front. And declared they had been made by a white man.
Two circ.u.mstances pointed strongly to the truth of this: The body had been carried away in the direction of Shanty Town; a white man would have taken so much trouble, not an Indian, who would have left his handiwork for all to see. And again, when Shanty Town was searched, one of the huts was found to contain evidence of late occupancy--sc.r.a.ps of food that were not yet stale, and, in a rusty stove, fresh coals. But though the coulee, the road, the prairie and the timber edging the river were all faithfully scanned, one thing concerning the murderer"s doings remained a mystery. At Shanty Town, the traces of him began and ended.
But how had he reached Shanty Town?
Old Michael furnished the clue of time. He related how he had heard the crack of a gun to the eastward the previous evening, "about th" ind av th" furst dog-watch."
Captain Oliver stayed until the last rod had been travelled and the last stone turned. Then, he was ferried to Brannon. On landing, he went at once to the wife of his colonel, who had vacated her home when the command left and was now living with Mrs. Martin at Major Appleton"s.
"Mrs. c.u.mmings," he said, "the old man on the Bend is missing. It looks like murder. His two girls are left, orphaned and heart-broken. They need a woman"s comfort, ma"am. Will you not go to them, and will you find a woman to stay with them for a few nights?"
"Oh, how very sad!" exclaimed that lady; then, turned away as if suddenly perplexed. "I--I--really don"t care to go myself," she went on, when she had given his request a moment"s thought. "I know these country people--so touchy and taciturn, always ready to think one is patronising them."
"_One_ usually is," retorted the captain, sharply. "Then, I must ask somebody else?"
"One of the troopers" wives would probably be glad to go."