CHAPTER TWELVE
"I THINK YOU NEED INDIAN GIRL FOR PICTURE"
Still it did not snow, though the wind blew from the storm quarter, andApplehead sniffed it and made predictions, and Compadre went with hisremnant of tail ruffed like a feather boa. Immediately after supper Luckattached his new hose to the tank faucet and developed the corral sceneswhich he had taken, with the thin youth taking his first lesson in thedark room. The thin youth, who said his name was Bill Holmes, did nothave very much to say, but he seemed very quick to grasp all that Lucktold him. That kept Luck whistling softly between sentences, while theywound the negative around the roped half barrel that had not so much as asix penny nail in it this time, so thoroughly did Andy do his work.
The whistling ceased abruptly when Luck examined his film by the light ofthe ruby lamp, however, for every scene was over-exposed and worthless.Luck realized when he looked at it that the light was much stronger thanany he had ever before photographed by, and that he would have to "stopdown" hereafter; the problem was, how much. His light tests, heremembered, had been made rather late in the afternoon, when the lightwas getting yellow, and he had blundered in forgetting that the forenoonlight was not the same.
He went ahead and put the film through the fixing bath and afterwardswashed it carefully, more for the practice and to show Bill Holmes how tohandle the negative than for any value the film would have. He discoveredthat Andy had not unpacked the rewinding outfit, but since he would notneed it until his negative was dry, he made no comment on the subject.Bill Holmes kept at his heels, helping when he knew what to do, asking aquestion now and then, but silent for the most part. Luck felt extremelyoptimistic about Bill Holmes, but for all that he was depressed by hissecond failure to produce good film. A camera-man, he felt in his heart,might be the determining factor for success; but he was too stubborn toadmit it openly or even to consider sending for one, even if he couldhave managed to pay the seventy-five dollars a week salary for the timeit would take to produce the Big Picture. He could easier afford to wastea few hundred feet of negative now, he argued to himself.
"Come on down, and I'll show you what I can about the camera," he said toBill Holmes. "The light's too tricky to-day to work by, but I'll give youa few pointers that you'll have to keep in mind when I'm too busy tothink about telling you. Once I get to directing a scene, I'm liable tobe busy as a one-armed prospector fighting a she-bear with cubs. I'mcounting on you to remember what all I'va told you, in case I forget totell you again. You see, I've ruined a hundred and fifty feet of negativealready, just by overlooking a couple of bets. You're here to help keepthat from happening again. _Sabe_?"
"Well, there's one or two things I don't have to learn," Bill Holmes toldhim by way of encouragement. "You get the camera set and ready, and I canturn it any speed you want. I'll guarantee that much. I learned that allright in projection."
"That's exactly why I brought you out here, brother," Luck assured him."That's why--"
"Oh, Luck Lindsay!" came Rosemary's voice excitedly. "Mr. Forrman wantsyou right away quick! Somebody's coming that he doesn't know, and he saysit's up to you!"
"What's up to me?" Luck came hurrying down the ladder backwards. "HasApplehead gone as crazy as his cat? I've nothing to do with strangerscoming to the ranch."
"Yes," said Rosemary, twinkling her brown eyes at him, "but this is awoman. Mr. Forrman refuses to take any responsibility--"
"So do I. I don't know of any woman that's liable to come trailing me up.Where is she?"
From the doorway Rosemary pointed dramatically, and Luck went up andstood beside her, rolling down his sleeves while he stared at the trail.Down the slope, head bent to the whooping wind, a woman came walking witha free, purposeful stride that spoke eloquently of accustomedness to theopen land. Her skirts flapped but could not impede her movements. Sheseemed to be carrying some bright-hued burden upon her shoulders, and shewas, without doubt, coming straight down to the ranch as to amuch-desired goal.
"You can search me," he said emphatically in answer to Applehead'squestion. "Must be some _senora_ away off the trail. I never saw herbefore in my life."
"We-ell, now, that there lady don't act like she's lost," Appleheaddeclared, watching her intently as she came on. "Aims to git whar she'sgoin', if I'm any jedge of actions. An' she shore is hittin' fur here.Ain't been ary woman on this ranch in ten year, till Mrs. Green comet'other day."
"She's none of my funeral; I don't know her from Adam," Luck disclaimed,and went back into the dark room as though be had urgent business there,which he had not. In the back of his mind was an uneasy feeling that thenewcomer was "some of his funeral," and yet he could not tell how or whyshe should be. In her walk there was a teasing sense of familiarity; hedid not know who she was, but he felt uncomfortably that he ought toknow. He fumbled among the litter on the shelf, putting things in order;and all the while his ears were sharpened to the sounds that came muffledthrough the closed door.
"Oh, Luck Lindsay!" came Rosemary's voice at last, with what Luck fanciedwas a malicious note in it. "You're wanted out here!"
Luck fumbled for a minute longer while he racked his brain for some clueto this woman's identity. For a man who has lived the varied life Luckhad lived, his conscience was remarkably clean; but no one enjoys havingmystery stalk unawares up to one's door. However, he opened the door andwent out, feeling sensitively the curious expectancy of the Happy Family,and faced the woman who stood just beyond the doorway. One look, and hestopped dead still in the middle of the room. "Well, I'll be darned!" hesaid in a hushed tone of blank amazement.
The woman's black eyes lighted as though flames had darted up behindthem. "How, _Cola_?" she greeted him in the soft, cooing tones of theyounger Indians whose voices have not yet grown shrill and harsh."Wagalexa Conka!" It was the tribal name given him in great honor by hisIndians of Pine Ridge Agency.
Through his astonishment, Luck's face glowed at the words. He went up andput out his hand, impelled by the hospitality which is an unwritten lawof the old West, and is not to be broken save for good cause.
"How! How!" he answered her greeting. "You long ways from home,Annie-Many-Ponies!"
Annie-Many-Ponies smiled in a way to make Happy Jack gulp with a suddenemotion he would have denied. She flashed a quick glance around at thecurious faces that regarded her so intently, and she eased hershawl-wrapped burden to the ground with the air of one who has reachedher journey's end.
"Yes, I plenty long ways," she assented placidly. "I don't stay byreservation no more. Too lonesome. One night I beat it. I work for younow."
"How you know you work for me?" Luck felt nine pairs of eyes trying toread his face. "That's bad, you run away. You better go back,Annie-Many-Ponies. Your father--"
"Nah!" Annie-Many-Ponies cried in swift rebellion. "I work for you alltime, I no want monies. I got plenty wardrobe; you give me plenty grub; Iwork for you. I think you need him Indian girl in picture. I think youplenty sorry all Indians go by reservation. You no like for Indians gohome," she stated with soft sympathy. "I sabe you not got monies for payall thems Indians. I come be Indian girl for you; I not want monies. Youlet me stay--Wagalexa Conka!"
"You come in and eat, Annie-Many-Ponies," Luck commanded with moregentleness than he was accustomed to show. The girl must have followedhim all the way from Los Angeles, and she must have walked all the wayout from Albuquerque. All this she seemed to take for granted, a meredetail of no importance beside her certainty that although he had nomoney to pay the Indians, he must surely need an Indian girl in hispictures. Loyalty always touched Luck deeply. He had brought the littleblack dog back with him and hidden it in the stable, just because the doghad followed him all around town and had seemed so pleased when Luck wasloading the buckboards for the return trip. He could not logicallyrepulse the manifest friendliness of Annie-Many-Ponies.
He introduced her formally to Rosemary, and was pleased when Rosemarysmiled and shook hands without the slightest hesitation. The Happy Family
he lumped together in one sentence. "All these my company," he told her."You eat now. By and by I think you better go home."
Annie-Many-Ponies looked at him with smoldering eyes, standing in themiddle of the kitchen, refusing to sit down to the table until the mainquestion was settled.
"Why you say that?" she demanded, drawing her brows down sullenly. "Yougot plenty more Indian girls?"
Luck shook his head.
"You think me not good-looking any more?" With her two slim brown handsshe pushed back the shawl from her hair and challenged criticism of herbeauty. She was beautiful,--there was no gain saying that; she was sobeautiful that the sight of her, standing there like an indignant youngMinnehaha, tingled the blood of more than one of the Happy Family. "Youthink I so homely I spoil your picture?"
"I think you must not run away from the reservation," Luck parried,refusing to be cajoled by her anger or her beauty. "You always were agood girl, Annie-Many-Ponies. Long time ago, when you were little girlwith the Buffalo Bill show, you were good. You mind what WagalexaConka say?"
Annie-Many-Ponies bent her head. "I mind you now, Wagalexa Conka," shetold him quickly. "You tell me ride down that big hill," she threw onehand out toward the bluff that sheltered the house. "I sure ride downlike hell. I care not for break my neck, when you want big 'punch' inpicture. You tell me be homely old squaw like Mrs. Ghost-Dog, I be homelyso dogs yell to look on me. I mind you plenty--but I do not go byreservation no more."
"Yow father be mad--I let you stay, he maybe shoot me," Luck argued,secretly flattered by her persistence.
Annie-Many-Ponies smiled,--a slow, sphinx-like smile, mysteriously sweetand lingering. "Nah! Not shoot you. I write one letters, say I go workfor you. Now you write one letter by Agent, say you let me stay, say Iwork for you, say I good girl, say I be Indian girl for your picture. Imind you plenty, Wagalexa Conka!" She smiled again coaxingly, like achild. "I like you," she stated simply. "You good man. You need Indiangirl, I think. I work for you. My father not be mad; my father know yougood man for Indians."
Luck turned from her and gave the Happy Family a pathetic,what's-a-fellow-going-to-do look that made Andy Green snort unexpectedlyand go outside. One by one the others followed him, grinning shamelesslyat Luck's helplessness. In a moment he overtook them, wanting the supportof their judgment.
"The worst of it is," he confessed, after he had explained how he hadknown the girl since she was a barefooted papoose with the "Bill" show,and he was Indian Agent there; "the worst of it is, she's a humdinger inpictures. She gets over big in foreground stuff. Rides like a whirlwind,and as for dramatic work, she can put it over half the leading women inthe business--that is, in her line of Pocohontas stuff."
"Well, why don't you let her stay?" Weary demanded. "She willanyway--mama! We're not what you can call over-run with women onthis job."
"Why don't you make a squaw-man outa Dave?" Pink suggested boldly, "andlet her be his daughter instead of Rosemary?"
"Say, what does that there walka-some-darn-thing mean, that shecalls yuh?" Big Medicine wanted to know. "By cripes, I hate talk Idon't savey."
"Wagalexa Conka?" Luck smiled shamefacedly. "Oh, that's just a name theIndians gave me. Means Big Turkey, in plain English. Her father, oldChief Big Turkey, adopted me into the tribe, and they call me by hisname. Annie-Many-Ponies has heard it used ever since she was a kid. Bytribal law I'm her brother. Well, what's the word, boys? Shall we lether stay or not? We could use her, all right, and put a dash ofold-plains' color in the picture that I haven't got, as it stands. It'sup to you to decide."
"You're wrong," Pink grinned. "She's decided that, herself. Gee,she's pretty!"
"Certainly she is; but get this, boys: She isn't going to stay justbecause she's pretty, and if I had a different bunch than you fellows,she'd have to go for that reason. I'm responsible for her--_sabe?_ BillHolmes, you get this; I saw you eyeing her pretty strong. That girl isthe daughter of an influential chief, and she comes pretty near being thepride of the reservation. There can't be any romantic stuff, if they lether stay. Her father and the Agent will consent, if they do consent, onthe strength of the confidence they have in me. They're going to keepthat confidence. Get that, and get it strong, because I sure mean whatI'm telling you." He eased the tenseness with a laugh. "I don't mean tooffend anybody," he said, "and that's why I'm putting it straight beforethe play comes up. Annie-Many-Ponies has got a heart-twisting smile, butshe's a squaw just the same. She's got the ways of the Injun to themarrow of her bones, and I'll bet right now if you were to shake her hardenough, you'd jingle a knife out of her clothes." He stopped and lightedthe cigarette he had been carefully rolling. "Well," he finished afterthe pause, "does she stay or go?"
The Happy Family answered him with, various phrases, the meaning of whichwas that he could suit himself about that; as far as they were concerned,she could stay and welcome.
So she stayed, and Rosemary hung up a calico curtain across the onebedroom, so that Annie-Many-Ponies might have a corner to call her own.She stayed; and Luck rewrote two reels of his scenario so that thereshould be a place in it for a beautiful Indian girl who rode like awhirlwind and did not know the meaning of fear, and who had a mind of herown, and who was just exactly as harmless in that camp as half a quart ofnitroglycerine, and added thereby a good bit to the load ofresponsibility which Luck was shouldering.