The Red Cloud Chief

She was a deceivin' critter, not that she meant to be deceivin' but her disposition was so different from her looks. Her hair was brown, and her eyes was blue an' innocent lookin' as a baby's, an' she hed a little mouth thet allers looked like it was jest ready to curve into a cry.

She looked as timid as a mouse, but she was as brave as any woman ever was.

Hevin' almost growed up amongst us we all liked an' respected her, which them thet knowed her couldn't help doin'. We all felt kinder near to her, a minglin' of awe an' pity together. You know how men will feel toward a brave little woman thet's got a lot of trouble to contend with. An' thet was Sue's trouble.

Her father would gamble and drink.

There wasn't a cleverer man in the place then Ol' Si Rogers. He was a good workman, an' made good money. But keep it, he couldn't. He was death on playin' poker, an' when he played he hed to drink to steady his nerves.

But even in his most reckless drinkin' tantrums he never forgot his love for Sue. An' he hedn't ought to, nuther, for she was as faithful an' loyin' to him as ef he didn't hev a fault in the world. Tho' it was sometimes purty tryin' fur her, when things was needed in the house, to hev the ol' man lose every cent he had in a jack-pot an' come home staggerin', stone-blind drunk.

But thet's what often happened. When folks'ud try ter persuade her to leave him, she giv' 'em cold encouragement an' arter awhile they jest got to lookin' on in a kinder silent respect an' shakin' their heads when anything particular bad turned up.

She never minded none o' thet but just went on in the same way lavishin' her affections upon thet ol' hulk of a father o' hers. But the young fellers, when they seen that she was good an' faithful as well as purty, commenced to hanker arter her more an' more. But 'twasn't no use, fer everybody cac'lated thet ef Sue ever sot her affections on any man that one would be Jim Mace, which the same hed kinder growed up in her favor. Most all the fellows hed learned to content themselves, leavin' the field to Jim, fur none of them thought they was man enough to cut him out. Jim was a mighty nice feller, steady an' easy goin' with no grudges agin nobody and not a blamed enemy in the world, I reckon. He was as quick to help an honest man out of a tight place as he was to help string up a hoss thief; an' squar', I reckon he was the squarest man thet ever owned a shooter. None o' yore quarrelsome kind, nuther, though he did always carry a pretty mean looking gun. But, then, you know, most all of us did thet in them days. It was downright necessary in a time when shootin' was almost as common as eatin'.

'Bout this time, all the camps in a circle o' seventy or eighty miles was bevin' a good deal o' trouble with a band o' perfessional gambiers thet hed settled among 'em.

Now we miners ain't overly ticklish: but we do reckon thet a perfessional gambler is about as desperate a critter as ever held down a claim on this 'ere earth.

Well, our camp come in fur its share o' this calamity, fur one o' them coyotes settled right down amongst us an' commenced operations. He was a remark ably slick lookin' chap, more gentle manlike then the most of his class: there wasn't thet flash o' gold an' jewels about him that allus makes a decent man tired; though he did wear one big diamond ring on his little finger thet looked like the real stuff an' I reckon it was. He called hisself Jack Custer, and he had been amongst us only a few days when we learned somethin' about him that was very funny fur a perfessional gambler: he didn't cheat. No, sir, he played as fa'r as a parson an took his losses with his gains. But I will say this fur him thet although he didn't cheat, he won a good deal more 'n he lost, an' when in the course o time men began to see it they kinder dropped off an' let him alone. His business growed small an' waverin' like.

The men thet did play with him didn't play reg'lar with one exception—ol' Si Rogers. He was as reg'lar as mealtime: never failed. Custer seen he hed a victim, an' he knowed jest how to work him. Every night at seven o'clock they'd sit down to play in the little room o' the tavern which was kept fur thet purpose an' Rogers 'ud never move from the table until he got up to slink home through the darkness with his bloodshot eyes, throbbin' temples an with not a cent in his pocket. But sometimes he would win, and then he went on like a crazy man; he would be so happy that he'd drink an' treat all his winnin's away before he left.

Things was gettin' purty low at his house; they was almost in need. But through it all Sue never blamed nor scolded him.

"Try an' come home without stoppin' father," she used to say. An' he'd go off in the mornin' promisin' faithfully "to do it," But his road home run right past the tavern an' he jest hed to stop in fur a minute, an' thet minute 'ud stretch out to nigh next mornin'.

Nobody interfered, 'cause it wasn't nobody's bus'ness.

One night the ol' man failed to show up at the usual time; half-past seven come; eight; half-past eight. Eyes began to turn in Custer's direction an' he seemed kinder oneasy. But jest five minutes before the clock struck nine ol' Si Rogers' shuflin' step was heard in the entry. It sounided a little quicker'n usual. Custer brightened up all of a sudden as he beard it an' took a step toward their table. But the minute the ol' man struck the room everybody could see thet somethin' was wrong.

His face was haggard an' pale an' there was a skeered look in his eyes.

"Boys," says he, in a husky voice, "is there one of you thet'll lend a feller a little cash in an emergency?" The men looked up questionin'ly from their cards. "Sue's down sick," he went on, "an' I'm clear out o' money."

Every hand went down into its owner's pocket, an' silver, gold an' bills come up, but Jack Custer was before us all. He was at the ol' man's side in about three shakes, and, pressin' a roll o' money into his hand, he said: "I think I've got a right to help you." The rest wanted to chip in, but Rogers said he hed enough, and we could only hold him long enough fur him to tell us part o' the story. One o' Mike Jasper's kids met him on his way from work to tell him that Sue was sick; hurryin' home, he found her ragin' with fever. Some o the neighbor women was a workin with her, but he wouldn't leave her side until he was jest compelled to go fur a doctor. Thet was why he dropped in there; 'cause as the doctor would hev to come some distance, he might want to see the color of his cash before startin'.

He left as soon as he told us thet, turrible worked up; an', in fact, he left us purty much excited, not knowin how bad sick Sue was.

But it turned out, arter all, thet it wasn't nothin' serious, jest a light spell. But I tell you ol' man Rogers was skeered purty bad. He straightened up an' didn't gamble fur a week, an' fur a time folks begun to think thet he hed really reforned. So did Custer; an' he packed up his things to leave.

He was standin' at the door one day when Sue passed, an' he asked who she was. When he found it was Rogers darter Sue, he whistled long an' low. He took a good look at her when she come back thet way. Thet evenin' he unpacked his traps an' settled himself to stay. The boys winked their eyes an' whispered to each other thet "Custer was goin' to play fur higher stakes," but 'twasn't no use, fur the cards was stacked agin him dead sure. Custer jest went right on, makin' no secret of his intentions, but workin' fa'r an squar'. He began to try and draw Sue's attention, an' everybody looked on in interest.

Jim Mace only laughed very quiet. He reckoned he'd fixed them cards himself an' knowed jest what chance the gambler stood fur drawin' a flush.

Ol' Si Rogers, arter his week's spell o' goodness, come back to his table as eager as ever an' jest about as onlucky. Thet is, at first; later on he began to sorter win.

"Custer's luck has changed," some one whispered. An' thet's the way it looked. But them thet tried to take advantage o' the change soon found thet somehow he didn't lose to nobody but ol' man Rogers. It got clearer, though, one night, when, arter the ol' man hed made a big winnin' Custer leaned across the table and said: "I'll be down to yore house afore long. I want to talk over some business with you." O' course Rogers couldn't refuse, an' Custer's game showed out plain: He'd been buyin' the ol' man's favor.

A good deal of advice was whispered to Jim Mace, but he wasn't skeered, an' said thet he wouldn't interfere as long as things went on straight an' honest. An' they seemed to be goin' on thet way to a very bad endin' for pore Jim.

Custer's bus'ness with ol' Rogers must 'a' turned out mighty satisfactory, 'cause he kept goin'. In the meantime he 'n the ol' man hed kinder quit playin' so reg'lar, but one night when they'd been talkin' together earnest like fur a long time the ol' man got so excited thet he jest bawled out without thinkin': "No! I won't try to persuade her to do nothin she don't want t' do."

They both shut up right away, but it looked like the gambler was tryin' to get ol' Rogers to persuade Sue to marry him, an' everybody looked at Jim Mace. He was perfectly cool. Custer went up to him an' said: "Ef a man kin win the girl he loves, all fa'r an' squar', why shouldn't he?"

"Why shouldn't he?" says Jim. "Hev you any objections to bein' cut out in an honest way?"

"Wall, no."

We all began to look at Jim an' wondered ef he hedn't got spliced on the sly, but ef anything uncommon was up he didn't show it.

Arter thet talk Jack Custer got more desp'rate. He commenced drinkin' harder an' drawed the ol' man back again into the same ol' ruts, drinkin' an' losin' his money. But it was all brought to a sudden hold-up one night 'long toward the end of August.

It was one o' them creepy, quiet summer nights thet a man feels away down an' all over; there wasn't much noise in the little gamblin' room o' the tavern except the flip-flap o' the cards, the occasional shuflin' o' feet as some man changed his position fur luck, an' now an' then an oath thet told thet somebody was busted.

Ol' man Rogers was all unnerved thet night, cause he was losin' heavy an' hed been fur near two weeks, while Custer set there lookin' as cool an' handsome as could be. But there was a glitter in his eyes when he fixed 'em on the ol' man, thet made a body think of a snake charmin' a bird. He was playin' fur a purpose, it showed in his face an' the eager grasp of his long, slender white fingers as they touched the cards.

The men at the other tables were finally aroused by the deck being dashed on the table an' a groan from Rogers. He was busted.

This was common; so the men jest went on with their own bus'ness. But them thet was watchin' saw the ol' man lean over the table as he said:

"You asked me fur my darter, the other day: stake me fifty against her until I try my luck once more, an' ef I lose, she's yore'n'."

"Done."

An' Custer laid down the bills.

The news soon got around an' the men left their own games to watch this one. Jim Mace among 'em.

Jest as they began playin', with a sort of unconscious impulse, we looked toward the door an' there stood Sue.

It wasn't no place fit fur a woman, but she had come fur her father, an there wasn't a man but what hed too much nateral gent'manship to say a wrong word in her presence.

At first sight of her, Custer started an' then dropped his eyes on his cards.

She come down the room an' layin' her hand on her father's shoulder called him by name, but the game hed begun an' he didn't notice her; she stood by silent while they played an' not one of us hed the heart to tell her what was the stakes.

The game seemed an age long; but bimeby it was finished an' ol' Rogers hed lost. He fell back in his chair in a faint, but revivin' in a minute, he kinder moaned: "Oh what hev I done? Gambled even my darter away!"

Jim Mace stood like stone.

It was some minutes before Sue understood the awful truth, an' she liked to fainted. She cried an' rocked herself back an' forth but not a word did she say agin her father.

Jim's eyes were fastened on the gambler.

Custer rose an' goin' to Sue's side took her hand. "You're mine," says he, "I gambled fa'r fur you," an' slippin' the ring from his finger, he put it on hers.

She looked at it fur a minute an' then screamed:

"Take it off! Take it off, it burns me!"

Such a look of misery came into the pore feller's eyes thet would 'a' made a dog pity him.

"You won't wear my ring," says he, takin' it off, "but you are no less mine."

She shrunk from him an' I seen Jim's hand slide back to his gun an' stop.

Custer's grip tightened on her arm, an' he said in a kind o' fiercely gentle way:

"Sue, you are mine as fa'r as ever woman was, but I love you too much to break yore heart."

He led her across the room an' put her hand in Jim's.

Almost afore we knowed what hed happened, Custer hed slipped out the door an' the boys' cheers rung out, even above them sounded a pistol shot outside.

We rushed out an' pickin' pore Custer up carried him into the room. A revolver was clinched in his hand, an' a bullet hed gone through his brain.

Paul Laurence Dunbar