CHAPTER XV
KISSING DAY
All week Jessie and her foster-mother Matapi-Koma had been busycooking and baking for the great occasion. Fergus had brought in asack full of cottontails and two skunks. To these his father had addedthe smoked hindquarters of a young buffalo, half a barrel of driedfish, and fifty pounds of pemmican. For Angus liked to dispensehospitality in feudal fashion.
Ever since Jessie had opened her eyes at the sound of Matapi-Koma's"Koos koos kwa" (Wake up!), in the pre-dawn darkness of the wintryNorthern morn, she had heard the crunch of snow beneath the webs ofthe footmen and the runners of the sleds. For both full-blood Creesand half-breeds were pouring into Faraway to take part in thefestivities of Ooche-me-gou-kesigow (Kissing Day).
The traders at the post and their families would join in the revels.With the exception of Morse, they had all taken Indian wives, inthe loose marriage of the country, and for both business and familyreasons they maintained a close relationship with the natives. Most oftheir children used the mother tongue, though they could make shiftto express themselves in English. In this respect as in others theyounger McRaes were superior. They talked English well. They couldread and write. Their father had instilled in them a reverence for theScriptures and some knowledge of both the Old and New Testaments. Itwas his habit to hold family prayers every evening. Usually halfa dozen guests were present at these services in addition to hisimmediate household.
With the Indians came their dogs, wolfish creatures, prick-eared andsharp-muzzled, with straight, bristling hair. It was twenty belowzero, but the gaunt animals neither sought nor were given shelter.They roamed about in front of the fort stockade, snapping at eachother or galloping off on rabbit hunts through the timber.
The custom was that on this day the braves of the tribe kissed everywoman they met in token of friendship and good-will. To fail ofsaluting one, young or old, was a breach of good manners. Sincedaybreak they had been marching in to Angus McRae's house and gravelykissing his wife and daughter.
Jessie did not like it. She was a fastidious young person. But shecould not escape without mortally offending the solemn-eyed warriorswho offered this evidence of their esteem. As much as possible shecontrived to be busy upstairs, but at least a dozen times she wasfairly cornered and made the best of it.
At dinner she and the other women of the fort waited on their guestsand watched prodigious quantities of food disappear rapidly. When themeal was ended, the dancing began. The Crees shuffled around in acircle, hopping from one foot to the other in time to the beating ofa skin drum. The half-breeds and whites danced the jigs and reels theformer had brought with them from the Red River country. They took thefloor in couples. The men did double-shuffles and cut pigeon wings,moving faster and faster as the fiddler quickened the tune till theygave up at last exhausted. Their partners performed as vigorously, themoccasined feet twinkling in and out so fast that the beads flashed.
Because it was the largest building in the place, the dance was heldin the C.N. Morse & Company store. From behind the counter Jessieapplauded the performers. She did not care to take part herself. Theyears she had spent at school had given her a certain dignity.
A flash of scarlet caught her eye. Two troopers of the MountedPolice had come into the room and one of them was taking off his furovercoat. The trim, lean-flanked figure and close-cropped, curly headshe recognized at once with quickened pulse. When Winthrop Beresfordcame into her neighborhood, Jessie McRae's cheek always flew a flag ofgreeting.
A squaw came up to the young soldier and offered innocently her facefor a kiss.
Beresford knew the tribal custom. It was his business to helpestablish friendly relations between the Mounted and the natives. Hekissed the wrinkled cheek gallantly. A second dusky lady shuffledforward, and after her a third. The constable did his duty.
His roving eye caught Jessie's, and found an imp of mischief dancingthere. She was enjoying the predicament in which he found himself. Outof the tail of that same eye he discovered that two more flat-footedsquaws were headed in his direction.
He moved briskly across the floor to the counter, vaulted it, andstood beside Jessie. She was still laughing at him.
"You're afraid," she challenged. "You ran away."
A little devil of adventurous mirth was blown to flame in him. "I sawanother lady, lonely and unkissed. The Force answers every call ofdistress."
Her chin tilted ever so little as she answered swiftly.
"He who will not when he may, When he will he shall have nay."
Before she had more than time to guess that he would really dare, theofficer leaned forward and kissed the girl's dusky cheek.
The color flamed into it. Jessie flung a quick, startled look at him.
"Kissing Day, Sleeping Dawn," he said, smiling.
Instantly she followed his lead. "Sleeping Dawn hopes that the GreatSpirit will give to the soldier of the Great Mother across the seasmany happy kissing days in his life."
"And to you. Will you dance with me?"
"Not to-day, thank you. I don't jig in public."
"I was speaking to Miss McRae and not to Sleeping Dawn, and I wasasking her to waltz with me."
She accepted him as a partner and they took the floor. The otherdancers by tacit consent stepped back to watch this new step, sorhythmic, light, and graceful. It shocked a little their sense offitness that the man's arm should enfold the maiden, but they werefull of lively curiosity to see how the dance was done.
A novel excitement pulsed through the girl's veins. It was not thekiss alone, though that had something to do with the exhilaration thatflooded her. Formally his kiss had meant only a recognition ofthe day. Actually it had held for both of them a more personalsignificance, the swift outreach of youth to youth. But the dance wasan escape. She had learned at Winnipeg the waltz of the white race.No other girl at Faraway knew the step. She chose to think that theconstable had asked her because this stressed the predominance of herfather's blood in her. It was a symbol to all present that the ways ofthe Anglo-Saxon were her ways.
She had the light, straight figure, the sense of rhythm, theinstinctively instant response of the born waltzer. As she glided overthe floor in the arms of Beresford, the girl knew pure happiness. Nottill he was leading her back to the counter did she wake from thespell the music and motion had woven over her.
A pair of cold eyes in a white, bloodless face watched her beneaththin black brows. A shock ran through her, as though she had beendrenched with icy water. She shivered. There was a sinister menace inthat steady, level gaze. More than once she had felt it. Deep in herheart she knew, from the world-old experience of her sex, that the mandesired her, that he was biding his time with the patience and theruthlessness of a panther. "Poker" Whaley had in him a power ofdangerous evil notable in a country where bad men were not scarce.
The officer whispered news to Jessie. "Bully West broke jail two weeksago. He killed a guard. We're here looking for him."
"He hasn't been here. At least I haven't heard it," she answeredhurriedly.
For Whaley, in his slow, feline fashion, was moving toward them.
Bluntly the gambler claimed his right. "Ooche-me-gou-kesigow," hesaid.
The girl shook her head. "Are you a Cree, Mr. Whaley?"
For that he had an answer. "Is Beresford?"
"Mr. Beresford is a stranger. He didn't know the custom--that itdoesn't apply to me except with Indians. I was taken by surprise."
Whaley was a man of parts. He had been educated for a priest, but hadkicked over the traces. There was in him too much of the Lucifer forthe narrow trail the father of a parish must follow.
He bowed. "Then I must content myself with a dance."
Jessie hesitated. It was known that he was a libertine. The devotionof his young Cree wife was repaid with sneers and the whiplash. But hewas an ill man to make an enemy of. For her family's sake rather thanher own she yielded reluctantly.
Though a heavy-set man, he was an exce
llent waltzer. He moved evenlyand powerfully. But in the girl's heart resentment flamed. She knew hewas holding her too close to him, taking advantage of her modesty in away she could not escape without public protest.
"I'm faint," she told him after they had danced a few minutes.
"Oh, you'll be all right," he said, still swinging her to the music.
She stopped. "No, I've had enough." Jessie had caught sight of herbrother Fergus at the other end of the room. She joined him. Tom Morsewas standing by his side.
Whaley nodded indifferently toward the men and smiled at Jessie, butthat cold lip smile showed neither warmth nor friendliness. "We'lldance again--many times," he said.
The girl's eyes flashed. "We'll have to ask Mrs. Whaley about that. Idon't see her here to-night. I hope she's quite well."
It was impossible to tell from the chill, expressionless face of thesquaw-man whether her barb had stung or not. "She's where she belongs,at home in the kitchen. It's her business to be well. I reckon she is.I don't ask her."
"You're not a demonstrative husband, then?"
"Husband!" He shrugged his shoulders insolently. "Oh, well! What's ina name?"
She knew the convenient code of his kind. They took to themselvesIndian wives, with or without some form of marriage ceremony, andflung them aside when they grew tired of the tie or found it galling.There was another kind of squaw-man, the type represented by herfather. He had joined his life to that of Matapi-Koma for better orworse until such time as death should separate them.
In Jessie's bosom a generous indignation burned. There was a reasonwhy just now Whaley should give his wife much care and affection.She turned her shoulder and began to talk with Fergus and Tom Morse,definitely excluding the gambler from the conversation.
He was not one to be embarrassed by a snub. He held his ground,narrowed eyes watching her with the vigilant patience of the pantherhe sometimes made her think of. Presently he forced a reentry.
"What's this I hear about Bully West escaping from jail?"
Fergus answered. "Two-three weeks ago. Killed a guard, they say. Hewas headin' west an' north last word they had of him."
All of them were thinking the same thing, that the man would reachFaraway if he could, lie hidden till he had rustled an outfit, thenstrike out with a dog team deeper into the Lone Lands.
"Here's wishin' him luck," his partner said coolly.
"All the luck he deserves," amended Morse quietly.
"You can't keep a good man down," Whaley boasted, looking straight atthe other Indian trader. "I wouldn't wonder but what he'll pay a fewdebts when he gets here."
Tom smiled and offered another suggestion. "If he gets here and hastime. He'll have to hurry."
His gaze shifted across the room to Beresford, alert, gay,indomitable, and as implacable as fate.