The Heritage of the Sioux | Page 9

and trembling with eagerness. "Why, my gorry! If it
ain't Jean Douglas, my eyes are lyin' to me," he cried.
"It isn't Jean Douglas--but don't blame your eyes for that," said the girl,
taking his hand and shaking it frankly. "Jean Douglas Avery, thanks to
the law that makes a girl trade her name for a husband. You know Lite,
of course-- dad, too."
"Well, well--my gorry I I should say I do! Howdy, Aleck?" He shook
the hand of the old man Jean called dad, and his lips trembled
uncertainly, seeking speech that would not hurt a very, very sore spot in
the heart of big Aleck Douglas. "I'm shore glad to meet yuh again," he

stuttered finally, and let it go at that "And how are yuh, Lite? Just as
long and lanky as ever--marriage shore ain't fattened you up none. My
gorry! I shore never expected to see you folks away down here!"
"Thought you heard me say when I left that the Great Western had
offered to get me Jean Douglas for leading lady," Luck put in, looking
around distractedly for a place to deposit his armload of packages.
"That's one thing that kept me--waiting for her to show up. Of course a
man naturally expects a woman to take her own time about starting--"
"I like that!" Jean drawled. "We broke up housekeeping and wound up
a ranch and traveled a couple of thousand miles in just a week's time.
We--we ALMOST hit the same gait you did from town out here
today!"
Rosemary Green came out then, and Luck turned to greet her and to
present Jean to her, and was pleased when he saw from their eyes that
they liked each other at first sight. He introduced the Happy Family and
Applehead to her and to her husband, Lite Avery, and her father. He
pulled a skinny individual forward and announced that this was Pete
Lowry, one of the Great Western's crack cameramen; and another
chubby, smooth-cheeked young man he presented as Tommy Johnson,
scenic artist and stage carpenter. And he added with a smile for the
whole bunch, "We're going to produce some real stuff from now on
believe me, folks!"
In the confusion and the mild clamor of the absence-bridging questions
and hasty answers, two persons had no part. Old Applehead,
hard-ridden by the uneasy consciousness of his treason to Luck, leaned
against a porch post and sucked hard at the stem of an empty pipe. And
just beyond the corner out of sight but well within hearing,
Annie-Many-Ponies stood flattened against the wall and listened with
fast-beating pulse for the sound of her name, spoken in the loved voice
of Wagalexa Conka. She, the daughter of a chief and Luck's sister by
tribal adoption--would he not miss her: from among those others who
welcomed him? Would he not presently ask: "Where is
Annie-Many-Ponies?" She knew just how he would turn and search for
her with his eyes.
She knew just how his voice would sound when he asked for her. Then,
after a minute--when he had missed her and had asked for her--she
would come and stand before him. And he would take her hand and say

to that white woman; "This is my Indian sister, Annie-Many-Ponies,
who played the part of the beautiful Indian girl who died so grandly in
The Phantom Herd. This is the girl who plays my character leads."
Then the white girl, who was to be his leading woman, would not feel
that she was the only woman in the company who could do good work
for Luck.
Annie-Many-Ponies had worked in pictures since she was fifteen and
did only "atmosphere stuff" in the Indian camps of Luck's arranging.
She was wise in the ways of picture jealousies. Already she was jealous
of this slim woman with the dark hair and eyes and the slow smile that
always caught one's attention and held it. She waited. She wanted
Wagalexa Conka to call her in that kindly, imperious voice of his--the
voice of the master. This leading woman would see, then, that here was
a girl more beautiful for whom Luck Lindsay felt the affection of
family ties.
She waited, flattened against the wall, listening to every word that was
spoken in that buzzing group. She saw the last bundle taken from the
machine, and she saw Luck's head and shoulders disappear within the
tonneau, making sure that it was the last bundle and that nothing had
been overlooked. She saw the driver climb in, slam the fore-door shut
after him and bend above the starter. She saw the machine slide out of
the group and away in a wide circle to regain the trail. She saw the
group break and start off in various directions as duty