Originally published: 1872
Genres: Western
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/201414143-dusky-dick---or-old-toby-castor-s-great-campaign-a-story-of-the-last-si
Gutenberg link: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68699
Chapters: 12
Warning: This may include outdated and derogatory language and attitudes.
CHAPTER I
DUSKY DICK'S PROPOSAL
"Annie, girl, who is that coming up the spring path? Ah me! I fear my old eyes are beginning to fail me at last!"
"Coming up the—ugh! Father, it is that Dick Morgan!"
"Dusky Dick—what can he want here, I wonder?" and there was a cadence of mingled uneasiness and dislike perceptible in the old man's tones that told but too plainly the advancing figure was not that of a welcome or respected guest.
The first speaker was an old man, whose head was frosted by the snows of over half a century and whose form—still athletic and supple—was beginning to bow beneath the weight of years. An honest, open face was that of old Edward Wilson; a true index of his heart.
He was sitting in the doorway of his humble log cabin, smoking the well-blackened pipe as a dessert to supper, just finished. But as he spoke the last words, he roused himself up and stood with crossed arms in the doorway, as though he would fain bar the intruder out, who was now within a few paces of the building.
The form of this man was clothed in a rough garb of tanned skin and woolen stuff, despite the warm weather, and a broad-brimmed slouched hat rested upon his head, concealing the upper portion of his face from casual view. A long barreled rifle rested carelessly in the hollow of his left arm, while the haft of a knife, and a revolver butt peeped from the belt at his waist.
"Good evenin', Wilson, and the same to you, Miss Annie," he uttered in a strong clear voice, as he half paused, and then with a careless gesture pushed the hat away from his brow.
The clear mellow light of the full moon shone down upon him, and fairly revealed his features. A glance at them may not be amiss, as this worthy is destined to figure somewhat prominently in our narrative.
At the first glance, a strange peculiarity about him would attract the gaze, and leave an unpleasant impression upon the mind of the beholder. And yet it was not that the man was so hideous, in features.
But there was a strange tint to his entire face and neck that involuntarily repelled one. And from this had come the sobriquet, known far and wide throughout the western country of Dusky Dick.
Indeed, more than one person who was well acquainted with him would have been puzzled to have told whether he ever had any other name, or if this was not the one by which he had been christened, supposing that ceremony had ever been performed. And Morgan seemed to be rather proud of the title, than otherwise.
In some way, he had been badly burned by an explosion of powder, and though no other scars were perceptible, this bluish tinge caused by the burned powder penetrating the skin, remained clear and distinct. The dye did not fade as he grew older but seemed to deepen and show brighter.
His features were regular and clear cut; his face was kept smooth shorn, though the black, Indian-like hair hung far down his shoulders. There were not a few who secretly asserted that he came by this last trait fairly, and wondered only that he had not the curved nose and high cheekbones as well.
His black eyes were of a fair size, but dull and sleepy looking, save when he was angered; then one was strangely reminded of an infuriated serpent, so wickedly did they flash and scintillate. In form he was tall, broad-shouldered, and well built, being somewhat noted for his skill in the use of weapons, fleetness of foot, and prowess as a wood-ranger.
"Good evening, Dick," coldly uttered the settler in reply, evidently not caring to encourage the man, as he still stood in the narrow doorway, without a hint for the other to enter.
"Heard the news?" added Dusky Dick, as a slight frown crossed his face, and a smoldering glow lit up his dark eyes.
"No—I don't know as I have. What is it?" listlessly responded Wilson as he deliberately crushed up some "natural leaf," and crammed it into the wide-mouthed pipe bowl. "Bring me a coal, Annie."
"'Bout the red-skins. They've got thar backs up at last and thar's goin' to be the tallest kind of a muss, afore the thing's over," and there seemed to be a faint tinge of exultation in the tones of the speaker, that did not escape the keen-witted borderer.
"How is it that you know so much of their feelings, Dusky Dick? A body might almost think you were one of them, by the way you talk."
Morgan gave vent to a low laugh; deep, smooth, and mellow, but yet filled with a peculiar meaning. Then he replied:
"I travel fur and keep my ears open, neighbor, as a man must needs to in these troubled times, and in a new country. I have kivered nigh onto fifty miles today, since sun-up. I stopped here to tell you the news. If you think it's wuth offerin' a feller a cheer, and a bite of somethin' to eat, I'll tell you it all. If not, then we'll call it quits and I'll go furder."
"Come in—I did not think," added Wilson, a little abashed, for border hospitality is proverbial. "Annie, give him what we have. Fall to, friend, and welcome."
With a nod toward Mrs. Wilson who was seated at the further end of the rude apartment, quietly knitting, Dusky Dick took a seat at the table and helped himself liberally to the plain though palatable viands that Annie hastened to replace upon the table. The girl then ignited a rude lamp and retreated to the side of her mother.
We do not intend to describe the building; most of our readers have seen these cabins, either in reality or through the medium of print. It was a regular frontier cabin, made of logs roughly hewn, "chinked" with billets of wood, daubed over with stiffened clay. The walls were unpapered, and the furniture of the rudest description, the majority being "homemade;" the ax and auger being the principal tools used.
But one of the inmates at least deserves more than a passing notice as she will figure quite prominently before the reader in this tale of border life and trials. That one is Annie Wilson.
Barely five feet in height, she was a model of feminine grace and beauty, tempered and strengthened by the life of freedom and health-giving exercise of the past two years. Her form had filled and rounded to superb symmetry, her cheek glowed with the hue of health and spirits; at eighteen, she was a woman, in the truest sense of the word.
Her hair was of a rich golden brown, her eyes, large and lustrous, were deeply blue; her nose, of a faintly Roman type, gave a decisive expression to her countenance, that was softened by the small, ruby-lipped mouth, from which gleamed twin rows of pearly teeth whenever she smiled, and caused a cunning dimple to play upon the softly-rounded chin.
Dusky Dick ate voraciously, but yet found time to cast more than one admiring glance toward the border beauty, which was by no means welcome, judging from the scornful turn of the bright red lips and the flashing of her blue eyes as the maiden bent over some rough mending. Then Morgan arose and approached the settler, who was still smoking.
"You don't ask me the news," he uttered, in a disagreeable tone as he squatted down upon the doorstep.
"I knew you'd tell it without," was the quiet reply.
"Yes, that's what I stopped fer. The Sioux are goin' to raise partic'lar Cain 'fore long."
"Are you sure?"
"I hed it from thar own lips," was the confident reply.
"You seem to be very thick with them, Dick. Some might think it strange they should tell you this unless you were in with them thicker than an honest man should be," and the settler gazed keenly at his visitor.
"They'd best not say so in my hearin'," muttered Morgan with an ominous scowl. "But I've al'ays acted on the square with 'em, and so they give me the hint. It's been brewin' for a long time, and they've made up thar minds not to stand any more of this everlastin' cheatin'. But never mind that jest now. I had other motives in stoppin' here," and Dusky Dick cast a sidelong glance at the sturdy settler; a glance that had in it not a little uneasiness.
"If there is anything else that I should know, Dick Morgan now's the time to say it."
"What d' you intend doin', anyhow?"
"About what?"
"Why—the Injuns, o' course."
"They will not trouble me—anyhow, I shall stay here until I am more sure of what they intend doing. I won't leave my property without good cause."
"You'll git rubbed out, then, shore. You remember Sloan Young? You turned him out o' doors once, because he was drunk—"
"Because he insulted the women, the dirty half-breed," angrily interjected Wilson.
"Well, I don't know. Anyhow, he's a big man 'mong some o' the Injuns, and he swears he will use this chance to rub you out. Now I don't like Young, and I'll save you if you say so. Petit Corbeau is a strong friend o' mine and will back me ag'inst Young. What do you say?"
"Speak plain. You are holding something back, Dusky Dick. Why should you do all this for me? We have not been such close and intimate friends as all that comes to. What is it you mean?"
The other appeared somewhat discomposed at this straightforward speech, and his treacherous eyes shifted uneasily and fell from before the steady gaze of the old settler. But then he responded, with a forced laugh:
"You're in a awful hurry, Wilson, but so be it. I'll come to the p'int at once, and then we may see the way clear before us. Then it 'mounts to jest this. I'll agree to save your stock, house, crap, and your lives. I'll engage that you sha'n't be bothered a mite, no matter how badly other families are sarved. It'll be a great trial and trouble, of course, and I won't do it 'thout pay—big pay, I expect you'll call it, but then remember what I save you."
"Come to the point, man; don't skirmish so," impatiently interrupted the borderer, eying Dusky Dick steadily.
"Well, I'll do this, as I said, if you'll—if you'll promise me that Miss Annie yander, shall marry me, jest's soon's this trouble is fa'rly over. There, now!" and the fellow uttered a sigh of relief.
"Father!" exclaimed Annie, rising from her chair.
"Wait, daughter," and Wilson waved his hand for her to keep silent. "Dick Morgan, are you in earnest about this matter?"
"In 'arnest? Why, of course, I am. I'll do all I—"
"Hold on—don't take too much for granted, my man, or you may be disappointed. I thought you knew me better than to come here with any such proposition as this. But since you did not, let me tell you that I think you are a precious fool and dirty scoundrel, and that the sooner you take yourself away from here, the better it will be for both of us," and the stalwart settler arose erect, his eyes flashing and his fists close clenched.
"Stand back, Ed Wilson—keep your distance or it'll be the worse for you!" muttered Dusky Dick, as he involuntarily retreated a pace, at the same time throwing his rifle muzzle forward.
"Don't threaten—you cowardly cur, or I'll forget myself and give you something to growl at. There is your road. Take it and begone, and don't let me ever see your ugly face 'round here again. Go!"
"Hold on a bit, Wilson," and a vicious glitter filled the desperado's eyes as his fingers nervously manipulated the rifle-lock. "Better think twice afore you throw away your chance. I tell you ag'in, that if you don't agree to my plans, you won't live to be a day older. You'll all be killed and skelped. You can't run away, fer you're watched by those who would be only too glad of a chance to plug ye! Do as I said; promise me her, and I'll save you all. If you don't, then—"
"Hold!" rung out a clear, firm voice, as a light, agile figure sprung before the sturdy settler. "Hold! Uncock that gun, or I'll send a bullet through your black heart! Uncock it, I say—and now leave!"
It was Annie who had thus interrupted the conversation, and probably prevented a tragedy, for the treacherous villain had cocked his rifle, unobserved by Wilson, intending to shoot down one whom he feared to face openly. But the watchful eye of the daughter had noted his action, and, grasping the ready rifle, had checked his purpose, as detailed.
Edward Wilson realized the peril he had so narrowly escaped, and, as the baffled villain shrunk back from before the threatening muzzle pointed by the dauntless girl, he uttered a cry of rage, and with one enormous bound, covered the intervening distance and stood beside Dusky Dick. Then one brawny hand clutched the scoundrel's throat, while the other arm was drawn back to deliver a crushing blow.
Morgan dropped his rifle to remove the grip upon his throat, the weapon exploding as it fell. But before he could raise a hand, the hard, heavy fist of the settler shot out and alighted full between his eyes, with a crushing thud, hurling the man twice his length away.
With an angry howl, Morgan sprung up and whipped out his knife—a long, venomous-looking blade—and crouched down like a panther ready to spring. Then again did the voice of Annie ring out:
"Mind yourself, Dusky Dick! I have you covered, and I know how to use a rifle. One step forward and down you go!"
"You see we have the best of you this time," quietly added Wilson, but with a menacing ring in his low voice. "Take your gun and begone. 'Twould only serve you right if I shot you down like a dog—as you meant to serve me, but I let you go this time. But the next—look out!"
Dusky Dick did not reply until he had secured his rifle. Then retreating a pace he spoke:
"And you look out. You've struck me. Good! A man never does that a second time. I'll be even with you yet—and with her, too. You hold the cards now—my time'll come soon. Jest put that in your pipe and smoke it. Maybe you'll remember it afore long," and with a hard laugh, the baffled desperado turned away from the spot.
The settler stood gazing after him irresolutely for a moment but then turned toward the cabin door. Annie's voice checked him:
"Who is that coming, Father?"
A tall agile figure was rapidly approaching the cabin from the not-very-distant woods, bearing a rifle, as could be seen by the clear moonlight. But whether an Indian or a white, could not be told, as the dress partook about equally of both races.
"Hellow, you!" cried a high-pitched, peculiar voice, that plainly bespoke the white man. "Ain't shootin' at the moon, be ye? Got plenty o' powder, I reckon?"
"Tobe Castor, by all that's good!" exclaimed Wilson, springing forward to meet the newcomer, in evident delight. "You are just the man of all others that I wanted to see."
"Sho! don't say so? Want to know? Ain't jokin', be ye?" and then the two men warmly clasped hands, like friends of a life-long standing.
"Come, Tobe; supper's over, but I guess there is something left. What brought you up this way so early in the season?"
"Don't ax me now—wait ontil they ain't lis'enin'," muttered the man, cautiously; then adding aloud: "How d'y, Miss Annie? Purtier'n ever, by gum! Beats all natur' how you do keep on a gittin' so. Sorter selfish, ain't ye, now? Got your own an' a dozent more besides—o' good looks, I mean. Wings 'most beginned to grow, hain't they?" and with a fatherly freedom, the weather-beaten old borderer stooped and imprinted a kindly kiss upon the fair face upturned toward his.
"Your tongue has lost none of its cunning, I see, anyhow Uncle Tobe," laughed the maiden, not unpleased.
"It's a lookin' glass, so fur's you're consarned, gal. But ef you will, I'm dretful hungry—hain't hed a bite fur 'most two weeks, 'cept at odd spells. Ef you've got any thin' in the grub line thet is in danger o' bein' sp'iled, jest please trot it out, while I talk with Ed, hyar."
In obedience to a nod from Castor, Wilson led the way to a little distance and then briefly detailed the purport of Dusky Dick's visit. Then he anxiously awaited the comments of his visitor.
"The dirty whelp! You'd orter 'a' shot him like a polecat! He merry—oh! git out! Makes me mad—durned ef it don't, now! Jest to think. Oh, won't I—thet's all; ef ever I git mud-hooks on the pesky critter? But wait a bit. He told you the truth, Ed; yas, he did, so fur's the reds risin' is consarned. They're goin' to do it—ef i'deed they hain't begun a'ready. They're jest goin' to chaw up the hull kentry afore they stop. Thar's goin' to be jest a lettle the liveliest time you ever see'd, 'fore its eended."
"Do you think so?"
"I know so—fer shure. An' you're in a bad place hyar—a pesky mean place, Ed," impressively added Castor.
"What do you advise?"
"Jest this. Take your fambly an' pack up. Git out o' hyar like 'twas ha'nted. Pull up stakes an' travel."
"And leave the farm—lose my two years of hard work?"
"Better thet, then lose your skelps an' it with the rest. An' thet's jest what you'll do ef you stay. I tell you, Ed, it's a ser'ous bizness, this is. Dusky Dick told you the truth o' the plans o' the imps. An' then you've sot him ag'inst you, too. He's got Injun blood in him. A pity it happined jest now, though I don't blame you, not a bit, but you'd orter never 'a' let him git away. He'll bring the imps down on ye, shore. He's a big dog 'th a brass collar 'mongst some o' them—the wust o' the lot, ef thet kin be, whar all is so bad. He's the one you must look out fer, the most."
"You think he's in league with them?"
"I know it, fer shore. But whar's Fred?"
"Over at Stevens'."
"Mought 'a' knowed thet 'thout axin', but I don't blame the feller a mite. Jinnie's a mighty purty gal, an' ef I wasn't so old an' ugly, an' she wasn't so smart, an' all else went 'cordin', an' she didn't say no, durned ef I didn't hitch onto her myself. But never mind thet now. What're you goin' to do?"
"What do you advise, Tobe?"
"Jest this. Take sech things as you cain't do 'thout an' don't want to leave, an' strike out fer the bigger settlements. I tell you, ef you stay hyar, tomorrow this time won't see ary one o' your skelps on the place whar natur' 'lowed fer 'em to grow," earnestly added Castor.
"Father," called out the clear, sweet voice of Annie, at this juncture, "all's ready."
"Come, Tobe; eat a bite and I will settle my plans. I'll let you know then," added Wilson, turning toward the cabin.
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