Detective and mystery stories; West (U.S.) -- Fiction
Wong grinned assent, and then vanished, after making a sign calling for
secrecy on Lowell's part, as Helen arrived, ready for the ride.
Lowell was a good horseman, and the saddle had become Helen's chief
means of recreation. In fact riding seemed to bring to her the only
contentment she had known since she had come to the Greek Letter Ranch.
She had overcome her first fear of the Indians. All her rides that were
taken alone were toward the reservation, as she had studiously avoided
going near Talpers's place. Also she did not like to ride past the hill
on the Dollar Sign road, with its hints of unsolved mystery. But she had
quickly grown to love the broad, free Indian reservation, with its
limitless miles of unfenced hills. She liked to turn off the road and
gallop across the trackless ways, sometimes frightening rabbits and
coyotes from the sagebrush. Several times she had startled antelope, and
once her horse had shied at a rattlesnake coiled in the sunshine. The
Indians she had learned to look upon as children. She had visited the
cabins and lodges of some of those who lived near the ranch, and was not
long in winning the esteem of the women who were finding the middle
ground, between the simplicity of savage life and the complexities of
civilization, something too much for mastery.
Lowell and Helen galloped in silence for miles along the road they had
followed in the automobile not many days before. At the crest of a high
ridge, Helen turned at right angles, and Lowell followed.
"There's a view over here I had appropriated for myself, but I'm willing
to share it with you, seeing that this is your own particular
reservation and you ought to know about everything it contains," said
Helen.
The ridge dipped and then rose again, higher than before. The plains
fell away on both sides--infinite miles of undulations. Straight ahead
loomed the high blue wall of the mountains. They walked their horses,
and finally stopped them altogether. The chattering of a few prairie
dogs only served to intensify the great, mysterious silence.
"Sometimes the stillness seems to roll in on you here like a tide," said
Helen. "I can positively feel it coming up these great slopes and
blanketing everything. It seems to me that this ridge must have been
used by Indian watchers in years gone by. I can imagine a scout standing
here sending up smoke signals. And those little white puffs of clouds up
there are the signals he sent into the sky."
"I think you belong in this country," Lowell answered smilingly.
"I'm sure I do. You remember when I first saw these plains and hills I
told you the bigness frightened me a little when the sun brought it all
out in detail. Well, it doesn't any more. Just to be unfettered in mind,
and to live and breathe as part of all this vastness, would be ideal."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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