“Th’ gals was all done up in jul’ry an’ ribbons from armpits to nearly th’r knees; an’ paint on face somethin’ like Injuns, only more permiskus. They wore flamin’ stockin’s made outen ’skeeter nettin’ that yo’ could see both sides at the same time an’ shoes reachin’ nearly to their ankles.
“Th’ men had white shiny shirts all standin’ out flat and roun’ in front, an’ coats with long tails a ’hind like an Injun breechclout. But th’ tailor mus’ a bin short on goods, but cut off square at belt clean back to hips, as if to be outen way of th’ six-gun none of ’em had. These here fellers all had on standin’ collars like one Bill brought home with him. He paid a dollar for it, just to show what they had back there.
“One of them there gals, all dressed in th’ middle, come an’ danced with Bill an’ he liked it some, ’cause no danger gettin’ spurs tangled in no skirts; an’ when they get through a steppin’ to th’ moosic, she kicks his hat offen his haid an’ takes th’ silk handkerchief from his naik, to make a dancin’ custom out of it. Bill said as the gals seemed to like him better than they did them there half-clouted slick-shirted guys; an’ he went back twice jus’ to get onto s’ciety ways. An’ yo’ bet he got there! Bill’s wide awake an’ yo’ goter stop this here ’durn kickin’ like a range steer afore yo’ feel th’ bran’in’ iron. Yo’ll bring disgrace on the H-B outfit, an’ all them there cowpunchers from t’other ranges, will have th’ laugh on us. Savey?”
The Virginian agreed that he would try “foller-th’ trail” as instructed, and if the H-B failed in its high aim, it should not be accredited to any wanton dereliction on his part, although the “proceedin’s” was most funereal, as he viewed them.
Jim and the other boys had long left the river, the one to seek Cogewea, the others to engage in a card-game at the Bunkhouse. The foreman met the girl returning from the teepee, and walking together to the veranda, they sat down on the steps. He was first to open conversation:
“Ain’t you glad to see me, Sis? Wasn’t you lonesome when I was gone?”
“Lonesome for you?” was the laughing reply. “Bah! You torment me so! I should have been glad had you remained away forever.”
“Now you don’t mean that!” and there was real solicitude in the tone. “You ain’t gone and fell in love with that there white feller while I was away, have you?”
The evident anxiety of the foreman was hardly allayed by the exasperating response:
“ ‘Well do I know, but dare not tell!’ lest I become a tattler. Does the lovelorn warrior spend his suns in dreaming-sleep that he must come to the squaw to learn of his rival’s trail?”
“By gollies, little gal! I’ll find out! Don’t you think that ol’ Jim is a goin’ to be caught with his lariat a trailin! The best rider of the Flathead never—”
“Aw come off! Let that ‘best rider’ stuff have a rest. If you rode as well as you talk, you certainly would be great and have all the girls dead in love with you, myself included.”
“Then there’s hope for me!” he exclaimed eagerly. “How about last Fourth of July? Didn’t I stick Croppy to a finish, when some of them there brag riders from everywhere got landed good?”
“Pshaw! Croppy was dead easy that day. I really believe you had him ‘doped’ for the occasion.”
“Well, I’ll ride any hoss that breathes, for you, Sis. I think a deal lot of you, and I only ask that you give me a show, an even chance with that there blasted tenderfoot. I don’t like his eyes and I don’t think he’s meanin’ right by you. Let me love you!”
“Go to it, old boy! Guess it will not hurt me and maybe the practice will aid you in catchin a real good girl. One who can return your affections; one capable of ‘ ’preciatin the best rider of the Flathead.’ ”
“Cogewea! I don’t want a gal too blamed good. You are my kind! There ain’t no more like you. Don’t let any white feller steal your heart.”
“I don’t think that he is any ipsoot kapswallie,”41 she laughed amusedly. “But I will be on my guard, for I prefer giving my heart away rather than have someone sneak in and take it simply because he happens to find the latch string on the outside.”
“Give it to me, Sis! Don’t you love me just a little?”
“Can’t do it, pard! I love you, but it is as a brother only.”
“Brother hell!” growled Jim. “Take that there tenderfoot, who can’t ride a cayuse, for a brother. He needs a sister to look after him while away from his mother.”
“I don’t want a Shoyahpee brother,” was the counter. “I like the Injun breed best.”
“You have an awful’ poor way of expressin’ your likin’s. If I thought you really loved that—”
“H-hu-hush!” and Cogewea laid a hand on her companion’s arm. “There comes the Shoyahpee now!”
Densmore came around the veranda. He paused as if to speak and then passed on to the bunkhouse. A sigh of relief escaped the girl. The foreman muttered an oath as he asked:
“Why didn’t you let me finish what I was sayin’?”
“Because I don’t want to see any trouble between you two on my account. And Jim,” she continued earnestly, “if you really care for me, please do not kick up any dust with him. It won’t pay. Won’t you promise?”
The breed’s soul was rent with the contending passions, love and hate. As if weighing his answer, he hesitated long before breaking silence:
“Sis, it’s hard to
