The Yukon Trail: A Tale of the NorthRaine, William MacLeod
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The Yukon Trail: A Tale of the North
Raine, William MacLeod
Western stories; Yukon River Valley (Yukon and Alaska) -- Fiction
Macdonald closed the door behind them, then strode frowning up and down
the room. The fear was growing on him that for all his great driving
power he could not shake this slim girl from the view to which she
clung. If the situation had not been so serious, it would have struck
him as ridiculous. His relation with Meteetse had been natural enough.
He believed that he had acted very honorably to her. Many a man would
have left her in the lurch to take care of the youngster by herself. But
he had acknowledged his obligation. He was paying his debt scrupulously,
and because of it the story had risen to confront him. He felt that it
was an unjust blow of fate. Punishment was falling upon him, not for
what he had done, but because he had scorned to make a secret of it.
He knew that he must justify himself before Sheba or lose her. As she
stood in the dusk so tall and rigid, he knew her heart was steel to him.
Her finely chiseled face had the look of race. Never had the spell of
her been more upon him. He crushed back a keen-edged desire to take her
supple young body into his arms and kiss her till the scarlet ran into
her cheeks like splashes of wine.
"You haven't the proper slant on this, Sheba. Alaska is the last
frontier. It's the dropping-off place. You're north of fifty-three."
"Am I north of the Ten Commandments?" she demanded with the inexorable
judgment of youth. "Did you leave the moral code at home when you came
in over the ice?"
He smiled a little. "Morality is the average conduct of the average
man at a given time and place. It is based on custom and expediency.
The rules made for Drogheda won't fit Dawson or Nome. The laws made to
protect young women in Ireland would be absurd if applied to half-breed
squaws in Alaska. Meteetse does not hold herself disgraced but honored.
She counts her boy far superior to the other youngsters of the village,
and he is so considered by the tribe. I am told she lords it over her
sisters."
A faint flush of anger had crept into her cheeks. "Your view of morality
puts us on a level with the animals. I will not discuss the subject, if
you please."
"We must discuss it. I must get you to see that Meteetse and what she
stood for in my life have nothing to do with us. They belong to my past.
She doesn't exist for either of us--isn't in any way a part of my
present or future."
"She exists for me," answered Sheba listlessly. She felt suddenly old
and weary. "But I can't talk about it. Please go. I want to be alone."
Again Macdonald paced restlessly down the room and back. He moved
with a long, easy, tireless stride. The man was one among ten thousand,
dominant, virile, every ounce of him strong as tested steel. But he felt
as if all his energy were caged.
"Why don't you go?" the girl pleaded. "It's no use to stay."
He stopped in front of her. "I'm going to marry you, Sheba. Don't think
I'll let that meddler interfere with our happiness. You're mine."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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