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111 pages

English

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Pioneering Western writer Bertha Muzzy Bower gained critical acclaim by bringing a unique female perspective to her tales of ranch life. In The Heritage of the Sioux, Bower brings a similarly empathic perspective to her fictionalized account of one of the most storied Native American tribes.

Sujets

Westerns

Western (genre)

Western

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 juin 2011
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781775453147
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE HERITAGE OF THE SIOUX
* * *
B. M. BOWER

*
The Heritage of the Sioux First published in 1916 ISBN 978-1-775453-14-7 © 2011 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - When Green Grass Comes Chapter II - The Daughter of a Chief Chapter III - To the Victors the Spoils Chapter IV - Love Words for Annie Chapter V - For the Good of the Company Chapter VI - "I Go Where Wagalexa Conka Say" Chapter VII - Adventure Comes Smiling Chapter VIII - The Song of the Omaha Chapter IX - Riders in the Background Chapter X - Deputies All Chapter XI - All this War-Talk About Injuns Chapter XII - The Wild-Goose Chase Chapter XIII - Set Afoot Chapter XIV - One Put Over on the Bunch Chapter XV - "Now, Dang it, Ride!" Chapter XVI - Annie-Many-Ponies Waits Chapter XVII - Applehead Shows the Stuff He is Made Of Chapter XVIII - In the Devil's Frying-Pan Chapter XIX - Peace Talk Chapter XX - Luis Rojas Talks Chapter XXI - "Wagalexa Conka—Cola!"
Chapter I - When Green Grass Comes
*
Old Applehead Furrman, jogging home across the mesa from Albuquerque,sniffed the soft breeze that came from opal-tinted distances and feltpoignantly that spring was indeed here. The grass, thick and greenin the sheltered places, was fast painting all the higher ridgesand foot-hill slopes, and with the green grass came the lank-bodied,big-kneed calves; which meant that roundup time was at hand. Appleheaddid not own more than a thousand head of cattle, counting every hoofthat walked under his brand. And with the incipient lethargy of oldage creeping into his habits of life, roundup time was not with him theimportant season it once had been; for several years he had been contentto hire a couple of men to represent him in the roundups of the largeroutfits—men whom he could trust to watch fairly well his interests. Bythat method he avoided much trouble and hurry and hard work—and escapedalso the cares which come with wealth.
But this spring was not as other springs had been. Something—whether anawakened ambition or an access of sentiment regarding range matters, hedid not know—was stirring the blood in Applehead's veins. Never, sincethe days when he had been a cowpuncher, had the wide spaces called tohim so alluringly; never had his mind dwelt so insistently upon theapproach of spring roundup. Perhaps it was because he heard somuch range talk at the ranch, where the boys of the Flying U wereforegathered in uneasy idleness, their fingers itching for the feelof lariat ropes and branding irons while they gazed out over the widespaces of the mesa.
So much good rangeland unharnessed by wire fencing the Flying U boys hadnot seen for many a day. During the winter they had been content to rideover it merely for the purpose of helping to make a motion picture ofthe range, but with the coming of green grass, and with the reactionthat followed the completion of the picture that in the making hadfilled all their thoughts, they were not so content. To the inevitablereaction had been added a nerve racking period of idleness anduncertainty while Luck Lindsay, their director, strove with the GreatWestern Film Company in Los Angeles for terms and prices that would makefor the prosperity of himself and his company.
In his heart Applehead knew, just as the Happy Family knew, that Luckhad good and sufficient reasons for over-staying the time-limit he hadgiven himself for the trip. But knowing that Luck was not to be blamedfor his long absence did not lessen their impatience, nor did it stiflethe call of the wide spaces nor the subtle influence of the winds thatblew softly over the uplands.
By the time he reached the ranch Applehead had persuaded himself thatthe immediate gathering of his cattle was an imperative duty and that hehimself must perform it. He could not, he told himself, afford to waitaround any longer for luck. Maybe when he came Luck would have nothingbut disappointment for them, Maybe—Luck was so consarned stubborn whenhe got an idea in his head—maybe be wouldn't come to any agreement withthe Great Western. Maybe they wouldn't offer him enough money, or leavehim enough freedom in his work; maybe he would "fly back on the rope"at the last minute, and come back with nothing accomplished. Applehead,with the experience gleaned from the stress of seeing luck produce onefeature picture without any financial backing whatever and without halfenough capital, was not looking forward with any enthusiasm to anothersuch ordeal. He did not believe, when all was said and done, that theFlying U boys would be so terribly eager to repeat the performance.He did believe—or he made himself think he believed—that the onlysensible thing to do right then was to take the boys and go out andstart a roundup of his own. It wouldn't take long—his cattle weren't sobadly scattered this year.
"Where's Andy at?" he asked Pink, who happened to be leaning boredlyover the gate when he rode up to the corral. Andy Green, having beenleft in nominal charge of the outfit when Luck left, must be consulted,Applehead supposed.
"Andy? I dunno. He saddled up and rode off somewhere, a while ago," Pinkanswered glumly. "That's more than he'll let any of us fellows do; theway he's close-herding us makes me tired! Any news?"
"Ain't ary word from Luck—no word of NO kind. I've about made up mymind to take the chuck-wagon to town and stock it with grub, and hitout on roundup t'morrer or next day. I don't see as there's any sensein setting around here waitin' on Luck and lettin' my own work slide.Chavez boys, they started out yest'day, I heard in town. And if I don'tgit right out close onto their heels, I'll likely find myself witha purty light crop uh calves, now I'm tellin' yuh!" Applehead, socompletely had he come under the spell of the soft spring air and thelure of the mesa, actually forgot that he had long been in the habit ofattending to his calf crop by proxy.
Pink's face brightened briefly. Then he remembered why they were beingkept so close to the ranch, and he grew bored again.
"What if Luck pulled in before we got back, and wanted us to start workon another picture?" he asked, discouraging the idea reluctantly. Pinkhad himself been listening to the call of the wide spaces, and the meremention of roundup had a thrill for him.
"Well, now, I calc'late my prope'ty is might' nigh as important asLuck's pitcher-making," Applehead contended with a selfishness born ofhis newly awakened hunger for the far distances. "And he ain't sent aryword that he's coming, or will need you boys immediate. The chances iswe could go and git back agin before Luck shows up. And if we don't," heargued speciously, "he can't blame nobody for not wantin' to set aroundon their haunches all spring waiting for 'im. I'd do a lot fer luck;I've DONE a lot fer 'im. But it ain't to be expected I'd set aroundwaitin' on him and let them danged Mexicans rustle my calves. They'll doit if they git half a show—now I'm tellin' yuh!"
Pink did not say anything at all, either in assent or argument; but oldApplehead, now that he had established a plausible reason for his suddenimpulse, went on arguing the case while he unsaddled his horse. By thetime he turned the animal loose he had thought of two or three otherreasons why he should take the boys and start out as soon as possible toround up his cattle. He was still dilating upon these reasons when AndyGreen rode slowly down the slope to the corral.
"Annie-Many-Ponies come back yet?" he asked of Pink, as he swung downoff his horse. "Annie? No; ain't seen anything of her. Shunky's beensitting out there on the hill for the last hour, looking for her."
"Fer half a cent," threatened old Applehead, in a bad humor becausehis arguments had not quite convinced him that he was not meditating adisloyalty, "I'd kill that danged dawg. And if I was runnin' this bunch,I'd send that squaw back where she come from, and I'd send her quick.Take the two of 'em together and they don't set good with me, now I'mtellin' yuh! If I was to say what I think, I'd say yuh can't nevertrust an Injun—and shiny hair and eyes and slim build don't make 'em notrustier. They's something scaley goin' on around here, and I'd gambleon it. And that there squaw's at the bottom of it. What fur's she ridin'off every day, 'n' nobody knowin' where she goes to? If Luck's got thesense he used to have, he'll git some white girl to act in his pitchers,and send that there squaw home 'fore she double-crosses him some way orother."
"Oh, hold on, Applehead!" Pink felt constrained to defend the girl."You've got it in for her 'cause her dog don't like your cat. Annie'sall right; I never saw anything outa the way with her yet."
"Well, now, time you're old as I be, you'll have some sense, mebby,"Applehead quelled. "Course you think Annie's all right. She's purty,'n'purtyness in a woman shore does cover up a pile uh cussedness—to afeller under forty. You're boss here, Andy. When she comes back, you ask'er where she's been, and see if you kin git a straight answer. She'lllie to yuh—I'll bet all I got, she'll lie to yuh. And when a woman liesabout where she's been to and what she's been doin', you can bet there'ssomething scaley goin' on. Yuh can't fool ME!"
He turned and went up to the small adobe house where he had lived insolitary contentment with his cat Compadre until Luck Lindsay, seeking acheap headquarters for his free-lance company while he produced th