The Watchers of the Plains: A Tale of the Western Prairies

Seth removed his pipe and cleared his throat. Rosebud had not dared to look at him while putting forward her scheme. Her heart was beating so loudly, that it seemed to her he must hear it.

“Wal,” he said slowly, “it’s not a bad notion in some ways, Rosie. Ther’s jest the matter o’ myself wrong. I ’lows you’d make a han’some return to Rube an’ Ma. Guess you needn’t to figger on me though. I’ll stand by this old farm. I ken work it single-handed. An’ I kind o’ notion the Injuns around here someways.”

“But we couldn’t do without you.”

Seth shook his head. As she beheld the movement, Rosebud’s lips quivered, and a little impatient frown drew her brows together. She felt like shaking him for his stupidity.

“Well, I’m just going to do it, Seth. And – and I’m sorry I said anything to you about it. I shall buy it for Rube without telling him. And you’ll help me?”

“Sure.”

“Quite sure?”

“Nothin’ more certain.”

The girl’s impatience had passed. A demure smile had replaced the frown, as she stared out at the flaming western sky. Presently she went on with a great assumption of calmness.

“I’m in a bit of a difficulty, though. You see, I want to do the thing at once, and I can’t because I haven’t got the money yet. I want to know if there isn’t some means of arranging it. You see I only have a certain income at present. Later on, I shall get the whole fortune. It’s that silly business about getting it when I’m married. And, of course, I’m not married yet, am I?”

“No.”

Rosebud felt a desperate desire to run away. But she had never realized how difficult Seth was before. His uncompromising directness was enough to upset any one, she told herself.

“Well, I must raise the money now. You see, now.”

“Can’t be done. You see, the dollars ain’t yours till you marry. Mebbe they’ll never be yours. Mebbe you won’t never marry. I guess every female don’t allus marry. No, can’t be done, I guess.”

“No – o. I never looked at it like that before. No. The money isn’t mine, is it? So, of course, I can’t do it. Oh, Seth, I am disappointed!”

The girl’s face had dropped, and there was something almost tragic in her tone. Seth heard the tone and it smote his heart, and made him long to take her in his arms and comfort her. He hated himself for what he had said.

“Why, little Rosie,” he said gently, “I was only jest lookin’ straight at it. Guess them dollars is yours. It’s jest a question o’ gettin’ married.”

The girl had turned away again. The sky was fast darkening, and a deep grayness was spreading from the east. And now, without turning, she said quietly —

“Yes, I must get married. But there’s no one wants to marry me.”

Seth drew a deep breath and stirred uneasily.

There was another long pause while Rosebud sat silently and unconsciously listening to the thumping of her own heart, and Seth tried hopelessly to relight a pipe in which all the tobacco had burnt out.

Suddenly Rosebud faced round. The growing darkness concealed the deep flush which had now taken possession of her cheeks, and spread even to brow and throat.

“But I do want that money, Seth,” she said in a low tone. “And – and – you said – you promised you would help me.”

There was a sharp sound of an empty pipe falling to the ground. Two strong rough hands were suddenly thrust out and rested in a steady grasp upon the girl’s rounded shoulders. They slid their way upward until her soft cheeks were resting in their palms.

Rosebud felt her face lifted until she found herself gazing into the man’s dark eyes which, in the darkness, were shining with a great love light. Her lids drooped before such passionate intensity. And her heart thrilled with rapture as she listened to his rough, honest words.

“Little Rosie, gal, you don’t jest know what you’re sayin’. I hadn’t meant to, sure, but now I can’t jest help it. My wits seem somehow gone, an’ I don’t guess as you’ll ever forgive me. Ther’s only one way I ken help you, little gal. ’Tain’t right. ’Tain’t honest, I know, but I guess I’m weak-kneed ’bout things now. I love you that bad I jest want to marry you. Guess I’ve loved you right along. I loved you when I picked you up in these arms nigh seven years ago. I loved you when I bandaged up that golden head o’ yours. An’ I’ve loved you – ever since. Rosie, gal, I jest don’t know what I’m sayin’. How ken I? I’m daft – jest daft wi’ love of you. I’ve tried to be honest by you. I’ve tried to do my duty by you – but I jest can’t no longer, ’cos I love you – ”

But he abruptly released her, and blindly groped on the ground for his pipe. He had suddenly realized that his actions, his words were past all forgiveness.

He did not find his pipe. Rosebud was kneeling now, and, as he stooped, his head came into contact with hers. In an instant his arms were about her slight figure, and he was crushing her to his breast in a passionate embrace.

“Oh, God! I love you, Rosie!” he cried, with all the pent-up passion of years finding vent in the exclamation.

Her face was raised to his; his lips sought hers, soft and warm. He kissed her again and again. He had no words. His whole soul was crying out for her. She was his, and he was holding her in his arms. Cost what it might afterward she was his for this one delirious moment.

But the moment passed all too swiftly. Reason returned to him, and his arms dropped from about her as he realized the enormity of his offence.

“Child – little Rosie,” he cried brokenly, “I’m crazy! What – what have I done?”

But Rosebud did not go from him as he had expected she would. She did not stir. Her face was hidden from him, and he could not see the anger he expected to read there. She answered him. And her answer was meek – very, very humble.

“You’ve let go of me,” she said in a low voice. “And – and I was so comfortable – so – so – happy!”

“Happy?” reëchoed Seth.

She was in his arms again. Night had fallen and all was still. No words were spoken between them for many minutes. Those rapturous moments were theirs alone, none could see, none could know. At length it was Rosebud who looked up from the pillow of his breast. Her lovely eyes were shining even in the darkness.

“Seth – dear – you will help me? You will be my – partner in the ranch?”

And the man’s answer came with a ring of deep happiness in his voice.

“Yes, Rosie, gal – if you’ll make it partners for – life.”

Somehow when he came to look back on these moments Seth never quite realized how it all came about – this wondrous happiness that was his. But then – yes, perhaps, he was “ter’ble slow,” as Ma Sampson had said.