That Girl Montana

by Marah Ellis Ryan

But his words were not uncouth as he launched them at the older man, and he was no longer careless as he watched the perturbation with which they were received. But Haydon shrugged his shoulders and attempted to look indifferent.

“I remarked just now that this was a land of astonishing things,” he said, with a tolerant air, “and it surely is so when the most depraved-looking redskin is allowed admittance to a white girl’s chamber, while the most harmless of Caucasians is looked on with suspicion if he merely shows a little human interest in her welfare.”

“Akkomi is a friend of her own choosing,” answered Overton, “and a friend who would be found trusty if he was needed. As to you—you have no right, that I know of, to assume any direction of her affairs. She will choose her own friends—and her own husband—when she wants them. But while she is sick and helpless, she is under my care, and even though you were her 210 father himself, your ideas should not influence her future unless she approved you.”

With a feeling of relief he turned away, glad to have in some way given vent to the irritation awakened in him by the prosperous gentleman from civilization.

The prosperous gentleman saw his form grow dim in the starlight, and though his face flushed angrily at first, the annoyance gave place to a certain satisfaction as he seated himself on a log by the fire, and repeated Overton’s final words:

“‘Even though you were her father himself!’ Well, well, Mr. Overton! Your uncivil words have told me more than you intended—namely, that your own knowledge as to who her father was, or is, seems very slight. So much the better, for one of your unconventional order is not the sort of person I should care to have know. ’Even though you were her father himself.’ Humph! So he does me the doubtful honor to suppose I may be? It is a nasty muddle all through. I never dreamed of walking into such a net as this. But something must be done, and that is clear; no use trying to shirk it, for Seldon is sure to run across them sooner or later up here—sure. And if he took a hand in it—as he would the minute he saw her—well, I could not count on his being quiet about it, either. I’ve thought it all out this evening. I’ve got to get her away myself—get her to school, get her to marry Max, and all so quietly that there sha’n’t be any social sensation about her advent into the family. I hardly know whether this wealth they talk of will be a help or a hindrance; a help, I suppose. And there need not be any hitch in the whole affair if the girl is only reasonable and this autocratic ranger can be ignored or bought over to silence. It 211 would be very annoying to have such family affairs talked of—annoying to the girl, also, when she lives among people who object to scandals. Gad! how her face did strike me! I felt as if I had seen a ghost. And that cursed Indian!”

Altogether, Mr. Haydon had considerable food for reflection, and much of it was decidedly annoying; or so it seemed to Akkomi, who lay in the shadow and looked like a body asleep, as were the others. But from a fold of his blanket he could see plainly the face of the stranger and note the perplexity in it.

The first tender flush of early day was making the stars dim when the doctor met Overton between the tents and the cabins, and surveyed him critically from his slouch hat to his boots, on which were splashes of water and fresh loam.

“What, in the name of all that’s infernal, has taken possession of you, Overton?” he demanded, with assumed anger and real concern. “You have not been in bed all night. I know, for I’ve been to your tent. You prowl somewhere in the woods when you ought to be in bed, and you are looking like a ghost of yourself.”

“Oh, I guess I’ll last a day or two yet, so quit your growling; you think you’ll scare me into asking for some of your medicines; but that is where you will find yourself beautifully left. I prefer a natural death.”