American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories; Western stories
Had Peter any sense of humor he might have smiled at this weakness in
his Amazonian sister, but he saw only the serious, practical side of
the situation, with, of course, its inevitable relation to his one
controlling idea. The young man was in good practice, and would have
made an eligible husband to any one else. But was he fit to mate with an
Atherly? What would those as yet unknown and powerful relatives say
to it? At the same time he could not help knowing that “Jinny,” in
the eccentricities of her virgin spinsterhood, might be equally
objectionable to them, as she certainly was a severe trial to him here.
If she were off his hands he might be able to prosecute his search for
his relatives with more freedom. After all, there were mesalliances in
all families, and being a woman she was not in the direct line. Instead,
therefore, of spurring forward to join them, he lingered a little until
they passed out of sight, and until he was joined by a companion from
behind. Him, too, he purposely delayed. They were walking slowly,
breathing their mustangs, when his companion suddenly uttered a cry of
alarm, and sprang from his horse. For on the trail before them lay the
young lawyer quite unconscious, with his riderless steed nipping the
young leaves of the underbrush. He was evidently stunned by a fall,
although across his face was a livid welt which might have been caused
by collision with the small elastic limb of a sapling, or a blow from
a riding-whip; happily the last idea was only in Peter's mind. As they
lifted him up he came slowly to consciousness. He was bewildered and
dazed at first, but as he began to speak the color came back freshly to
his face. He could not conceive, he stammered, what had happened. He
was riding with Miss Atherly, and he supposed his horse had slipped upon
some withered pine needles and thrown him! A spasm of pain crossed his
face suddenly, and he lifted his hand to the top of his head. Was he
hurt THERE? No, but perhaps his hair, which was flowing and curly, had
caught in the branches--like Absalom's! He tried to smile, and even
begged them to assist him to his horse that he might follow his fair
companion, who would be wondering where he was; but Peter, satisfied
that he had received no serious injury, hurriedly enjoined him to stay,
while he himself would follow his sister. Putting spurs to his horse,
he succeeded, in spite of the slippery trail, in overtaking her near
the summit. At the sound of his horse's hoofs she wheeled quickly, came
dashing furiously towards him, and only pulled up at the sound of his
voice. But she had not time to change her first attitude and expression,
which was something which perplexed and alarmed him. Her long lithe
figure was half crouching, half clinging to the horse's back, her
loosened hair flying over her shoulders, her dark eyes gleaming with an
odd nymph-like mischief. Her white teeth flashed as she recognized
him, but her laugh was still mocking and uncanny.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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