CHAPTER XVIII

After this Jim often met Nat-u-ritch. On his trail across the country he would see her on her little pony galloping after him. Sometimes she would join him and silently accompany him on his search for the cattle that had strayed beyond the range.

Nat-u-ritch's life with her father, Tabywana, was passed in days of uneventful placidness. Since the death of Cash Hawkins the Chief had given her no cause for anxiety. Concerning the murder, neither she nor her father spoke. Tabywana admired Jim Carston; he seemed to realize instinctively what Jim had saved him from that day at the saloon, and his unspoken devotion, sincere and steadfast, often caused him to serve Jim without any one's knowledge.

Sometimes when Nat-u-ritch returned from a long day's ride her father would scrutinize her, and as he read in her the call of her nature for the Englishman, a curious smile would light up his face in sympathy with her. He saw the unmoved impassiveness that she showed to all the young bucks that sought her, and without protest let her go her way, and her trail always led towards Carston's ranch.

Winter came with its treacherous winds, and Carston's ranch was more desolate. Of Nat-u-ritch's unspoken devotion to him there was no doubt in Jim's mind, and the temptation to take her proffered companionship into his lonely life rose strong within him. After Cash Hawkins's death, Jim, had he cared for the life, might have been a leader in the Long Horn saloon, but a bar-room hero was not the role that he wished to play. His own men—Grouchy, Andy, and Shorty—openly expressed their disappointment to Big Bill at the boss's indifference to the position he might exert as a power in Maverick, and even Big Bill only vaguely understood Jim's unappreciative attitude. He often watched Jim smoking his pipe and peering into the heart of the embers that glowed on the hearth, and as he saw the careworn face Bill's great heart ached with sympathy for him. But Jim, as he realized the difficulties of the fight in which he was involved, only clinched his fists the tighter and accomplished the work of three men in his day's toil.

At these times the physical drain on him was so great that there was no opportunity left in which to realize the biting ache of his loneliness. So one bleak day succeeded another, with the slim, mute figure of the Indian girl ever crossing his path.

The early spring brought with it a sudden melting of the snow-capped hills and the ice-covered pools. The cattle grew more troublesome. They seemed harder to control, or else the boys were more indifferent to their disappearance. Big Bill had gone away on a deal for new cattle, so Jim's energies were redoubled.

One day as he rode across the plains searching for a lost herd that had wandered towards Jackson's Hole, the longing that the awakening spring had brought with it grew more insistent. Life surely held for him possibilities greater than this, he told himself. He resolved, on Bill's return, to arrange with him to sell the place. He could not conquer the craving for the old haunts of civilization that took possession of him. He closed his eyes to shut out the endless stretch of prairie. Lost in his dream to escape from his lonely life and to take part again in the affairs of men of his own class, he failed to notice the small pony that followed him carrying Nat-u-ritch.

On he went, so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not notice how close he was to Jackson's Hole. Big Bill long ago had warned him of the treacherous ridge that lay near the gulley, but Jim had forgotten Bill's words. Unconscious of the danger ahead, he galloped towards the edge of the broken precipice. In the distance he espied the marks of a herd of cattle that had passed around to the other side of the ridge. Jim urged his horse forward and started to jump the small, deceptive span that covered the hole. A sharp cry came from Nat-u-ritch, who had quickly gained ground on him as she saw his intention. But Jim, unheeding, gave a sharp command to his horse and urged him over. There was a sudden breaking of ground; then a whirling, dazed moment through which flashed an eternity of thought, and Nat-u-ritch stood alone, clinging to her pony as she peered over into the dark pool of broken ice around which stretched chasms of impenetrable blackness.

Two weeks later Jim opened his eyes to consciousness in Nat-u-ritch's wickyup. No man of those summoned by Nat-u-ritch to help had dared venture into the dreaded abyss, so Jim had been abandoned as dead. But the depth of her love gave the Indian girl the strength to accomplish his rescue. Jealous of her treasure, she dragged the unconscious body to her own village, which was nearer than Jim's ranch.

Then followed an illness from the long exposure in the gulley. Big Bill returned, only to find the ranch without its master, while Jim lay in the squaw's wickyup, with the Indian girl fighting to save his life, her love and loyalty making her his abject slave.

Weeks followed, and one day Big Bill and the boys brought the boss home. Then came a relapse, and again Nat-u-ritch's devotion and courage gave him back his life. This time Bill watched a double fight: the fight on the part of the woman to save the man so that she might win him for herself, and on Jim's part an effort to resist the mute surrender of the woman.

Without the boss's supervision the ranch had deteriorated, and Jim's affairs had become so involved that he recovered only to find that all thought of abandoning the place was now impossible. His dream of escape was now a hope of the past. And so life began afresh for him on the plains.

Jim stood outside of the window of an adobe hut. From within he could hear the low moans of a woman and now and then the wail of a child. He was alone, save for the missionary who had married him a few months before to Nat-u-ritch, and who was now inside helping the sick woman. Big Bill had gone to fetch an old squaw who had promised to come to the ranch. As Jim leaned against the post of the porch he was stirred by a multitude of emotions. The wails from within grew louder and more fretful. As he watched the heavens, ablaze with a thousand eyes, he wondered why the old woman had failed to come in time. He hardly realized what the past hour had meant to him. A child had been given to him! Something of the wonder of the eternal mystery was numbing his spirit. The sick woman's moans grew fainter, only the cry of the babe persistently reached him.

At last the missionary came to him: Nat-u-ritch was asleep; he would go, he explained, and hurry along the Indian woman who was coming with Big Bill to the ranch. The cry of the child seemed to become more pitiful. Jim tiptoed to the door of the inner room. On the cot lay Nat-u-ritch. He softly crossed to the small bundle of life rolled in the blanket and lifted it in his arms. The warm, appealing little body lay limp against him. He began swaying to and fro until the cry grew fainter. Soon the babe slept; but Jim still stood rocking his son in his strong arms.