Kitobni o'qish: «Cavanagh, Forest Ranger: A Romance of the Mountain West», sahifa 5

“Are you tired? would you like to lie down before dinner?” she asked.

“Oh no, indeed. Nothing ever tires me,” Virginia responded, with a smile.

“You look like one in perfect health,” continued her hostess, in the envious tone of one who knew all too well what ill-health meant. “Let me show you to your room.”

The house was not precisely the palace the cowboy had reported it to be, but it was charmingly decorated, and the furnishings were tasteful. To the girl it was as if she had been transported with instant magic from the horrible little cow-town back to the home of one of her dearest friends in Chester. She was at once exalted and humbly grateful.

“We dine at seven,” Mrs. Redfield was saying, “so you can take a cup of tea without spoiling your dinner. Will you venture it?”

“If you please.”

“Very well; come down soon, and I’ll have it ready. Mr. Redfield, I’m sure, will want some.”

Virginia’s heart was dancing with delight of this home as she came down the stairs a little later. She found Mr. Redfield at the farther end of a long sitting-room, whose dim light was as restful (after the glare of the tawny plains) as the voice of her hostess was to her ears, which still ached with the noise of profane and vulgar speech.

Redfield heard her coming and met her half-way, and with stately ceremony showed her a seat. “I fear you will need something stronger than tea after my exhausting conversation.”

“I hope, Hugh, you were not in one of your talking moods?”

“I was, Eleanor. I talked incessantly, barring an occasional jolt of the machine.”

“You poor thing!” This to Virginia. “Truly you deserve a two hours’ rest before dinner, for our dinner is always a talk-fest, and to-night, with Senator Bridges here, it will be a convention.”

He turned to Virginia. “We were talking old times ‘before the war,’ and you know it never tires veterans to run over their ancient campaigns – does it, Lee Virginia?”

As they talked Mrs. Redfield studied the girl with increasing interest and favor, and soon got at her point of view. She even secured a little more of her story, which matched fairly well with the account her husband had given. Her prejudices were swept away, and she treated her young guest as one well-born and well-educated woman treats another.

At last she said: “We dress for dinner, but any frock you have will do. We are not ironclad in our rules. There will be some neighbors in, but it isn’t in any sense a ‘party.’”

Lee Virginia went to her room, borne high upon a new conception of the possibilities of the West. It was glorious to think that one could enjoy the refinement, the comfort of the East at the same time that one dwelt within the inspiring shadow of the range. She caught some prophetic hint in all this of the future age when each of these foot-hills would be peopled by those to whom cleanliness of mind and grace of body were habitual. Standing on the little balcony which filled the front of her windows, she looked away at the towering heights, smoky purple against a sky of burning gold, and her eyes expanded like those of the young eagle when about to launch himself upon the sunset wind.

The roar of a waterfall came to her ears, and afar on the sage-green carpet of the lower mesa a horseman was galloping swiftly. Far to the left of this smoothly sculptured table-land a band of cattle fed, while under her eyes, formal as a suburban home, lay a garden of old-fashioned English flowers. It was a singular and moving union of the old and new – the East and the West.

On her table and on the pretty bookshelves she found several of the latest volumes of poetry and essays, and the bed, with its dainty covering and ample spread, testified quite as plainly of taste and comfort. Her hands were a-tremble as she put on the bright muslin gown which was all she had for evening wear. She felt very much like the school-girl again, and after she had done her best to look nice, she took a seat in the little rocker, with intent to compose herself for her meeting with strangers. “I wish we were dining without visitors,” she said, as she heard a carriage drive up. A little later a galloping horse entered the yard and stopped at the door.

“It all sounds like a play,” she said to herself, forgetting for the moment that she was miles away from a town and in a lonely ranch-house under the very shadows of the mountains.

She heard voices in the hall, and among them one with a very English accent – one that sounded precisely like those she had heard on the stage. It was the voice of a man, big, hearty, with that thick, throaty gurgle which is so suggestive of London that one is certain to find a tweed suit and riding-breeches associated with it.

At last she dared wait no longer, and taking courage from necessity, descended the stairs – a pleasant picture of vigorous yet somewhat subdued maidenhood.

V
TWO ON THE VERANDA

Redfield met his young guest in dinner-coat, looking extremely urban, and presented his “friend and neighbor, Mr. Enderby.”

Enderby turned out to be the owner of the voice with the English accent which Lee Virginia had heard in the hall, but he was very nice, and a moment later Mrs. Redfield entered with Mrs. Enderby, a large lady with a smiling face. Then a voice she knew spoke from behind her: “I don’t need a presentation. Miss Wetherford and I have already met.”

She turned to meet Ross Cavanagh, the young ranger.

“How did you get here?” she asked, in wonder.

“I rode across the hills; it’s not far.”

He too was in evening dress, and as she stared at him in surprise he laughingly protested. “Please don’t scrutinize this coat too closely. It’s the only one I’ve owned for ten years, and this is the only house in which I’d dare to wear it.”

Bridges (who turned out to be a State senator) was a farmer-like elderly man wearing a badly fitting serge suit. He was markedly Western; so was his wife, who looked rather uneasy and hot.

It was all delightfully exciting to Lee Virginia, and to be taken in to dinner by the transfigured ranger completed her appreciation of the charming home and its refined hostess.

Redfield shone as host, presenting an admirable mixture of clubman and Western rancher. His natural sense of humor, sharpened by twenty years of plains life, was Western. His manner, his habits of dress, of dining, of taking wine, were uncorruptedly Manhattan. Enderby, large, high-colored, was naturally a bit of what we know as the “haw-haw type” of Englishman – a thoroughly good fellow, kindly, tolerant, brave, and generous, who could not possibly change his spots. He had failed utterly to acquire the American idiom, and his attempts at cowboy slang were often amusing – especially to Redfield, who prided himself on being quite undistinguishable in a cow-camp.

Virginia and Ross, being the only young folk at the table, were seated together, and Enderby remarked privately: “Ross, you’re in luck.”

“I know I am,” he replied, heartily.

He was (as Redfield had said) highly susceptible, made so by his solitary life in the mountains, and to be seated close beside this maid of the valley stirred his blood to the danger-point. It was only by an effort of the will that he kept in touch with Redfield’s remarks.

“Enderby never can grow accustomed to his democratic neighbors,” Redfield was saying. “He’s been here six years, and yet when one of his cowboy friends tells him to ‘go to hell’ he’s surprised and a bit offended.”

“Oh, it isn’t that,” explained Mrs. Enderby; “it’s to have your maids say ‘All right’ when you ask them to remove the soup. It’s a bit shocking also to have your cook or housemaid going about the house singing some wretched ditty. What was that one, Charley, that Irma Maud sang till we were nearly wild (Irma Maud was my chambermaid). What was it? Something about ‘Tixey Ann.’”

“Oh, I know it perfectly!” exclaimed Enderby. “‘If you want to make a niggah feel good – ’”

“No, no; that’s another one.”

Redfield interposed. “You wouldn’t have them go about in sullen stealth, would you? Think how song lightens their drudgery.”

“Ah yes; but if it drives the family out-of-doors?”

“It shouldn’t. You should take it all as a part of the happy world of democracy wherein even the maid-servant sings at her toil.”

“But our democratic neighbors are all the time coming to look round the place. We’ve no privacy whatever. On Sunday afternoon they drive through the grounds in procession; you’d think our place a public park and we the keepers.”

In all this banter Virginia was given the English viewpoint as to Western manners and conditions. She perceived that the Enderbys, notwithstanding their heavy-set prejudices, were persons of discernment and right feeling. It certainly was impertinent of the neighbors to ride through the grounds as if they were public, and Mrs. Enderby was justified in resenting it.

Ross turned to her. “Enderby is the kind of Englishman who wants to adapt himself to new conditions, but can’t.”

“You don’t seem like an Englishman at all.”

“Well, I was caught young, and, besides, I’m really Irish – on my father’s side.”

“Oh, that’s different!” she exclaimed, as though that somehow brought him nearer to her own people.

“It is, isn’t it?” he laughingly agreed. “But Enderby – I suppose his pedigree goes back to Cedric and his swineherds. You can’t change that kind.”

“I hadn’t the least thought of seeing you here. How did you happen to come?”

“Redfield telephoned me at the mill, and I came at once. I haven’t been here since May, and I just thought I’d take a half a day off. Luckily, my understudy was with me. I left him ‘on the job.’”

He did not tell her that she was the principal reason for this sudden descent upon Elk Lodge, and no one but Redfield knew the killing ride he had taken in order to be in at the beginning of the dinner. The girl’s face and voice, especially her voice, had been with him night and day as he went about his solitary duties. Her life problem had come to fill his mind to a disturbing degree, and he was eager to know more of her and of her struggle against the vice and vulgarity of the Forks.

“How is your mother?” he asked, a few minutes later.

“Not at all well. Mr. Redfield is to take the doctor back with us to-morrow.” The ecstasy died out of her face, and the flexible lips drooped with troubled musing. “I am afraid she suffers more than she will admit.”

“She needs a rest and change. She should get away from her seat at that cash-register, and return to the open air. A touch of camp-life would help her. She sticks too close to her work.”

“I know she does, but she won’t let me relieve her, even for an hour. It isn’t because she doesn’t trust me; she says it’s because she doesn’t want me sitting there – so – publicly. She doesn’t oppose my housekeeping any more – ”

“You certainly have made the old hotel into a place of miraculous neatness.”

She flushed with pleasure. “I have done something, but not as I’d like to do. I really think if mother wishes to sell she could do so now to much better advantage.”

“I’ve no doubt of it. Really, I’m not being funny, Miss Wetherford, when I say you’ve done something heroic. It’s no easy thing to come into a place like that and make it habitable. It shows immense courage and self-reliance on your part. It’s precisely the kind of work this whole country needs.”

His praise, sincere and generous, repaid her for all she had gone through. It was a great pleasure to hear her small self praised for courage and self-reliance by one whose daily work was heroic. All things conspired to make a conquest of her heart, for the ranger bore himself with grace, and dealt with his silver deftly. His face, seen from the side, was older and sterner than she had thought it, but it was very attractive in line.

She said: “Mr. Redfield and I were talking of ‘the war’ to-day – I mean our ‘cattle-man’s invasion’ – and I learned that you were the sergeant who came for the prisoners.”

He smiled. “Yes; I was serving in the regular army at that time.”

“You must have been very young?”

“I was – a kid.”

“That was a brave thing to do.”

“Not at all. I was a soldier under orders of the commander of the post. I dared not disobey.”

She would not have it so. “But you knew that you were going into danger?”

“To be honest about it, I did; but I relied on my blue coat to protect me.”

“It was a terrible time. I was only a child, but I can remember how wild the men all seemed when you drove up and leaped out of the wagon. I didn’t realize that my father’s life depended on your coming, but we all knew it was brave of you.”

“I think I was born a soldier. What I like about my present job is its definiteness. I have my written instructions, and there’s no need to argue anything. I carry out my orders. But I beg pardon, I’m not going to talk ‘shop’ to you. I want you to tell me about yourself. I hope you are not to return to the East, for if you do not I shall be able to see you occasionally.”

Here Redfield appealed to the ranger. “Ross, you’re all sorts of a reactionary. What do you say to this? Senator Bridges is opposed to all Federal interference with State forests and State game.”

The forester’s eyes lit up. “But are they State forests and State game? What makes them so? They are lands which the whole people purchased and which the whole people defended.”

“Heah! heah!” cheered Enderby.

Bridges bristled with anger, and went off into a long harangue on States rights and the dangers of centralization, to which Enderby replied: “Bosh! the whole trouble with your bally Government is its lack of cohesion. If I had my way, I’d wipe out the Senate and put a strong man like Roosevelt at the head of the executive. You’re such blooming asses over here; you don’t know enough to keep a really big man in your presidential chair. This fussing about every four years to put in some oily corporation lawyer is bloody rot. Here’s Roosevelt gets in the midst of a lot of the finest kind of reforms, y’ know, and directly you go and turn him out! Then if you get a bad man, you’ve to wait four years till you can fetch him a whack. Why not arrange it so you can pitch your President out the minute he goes wrong? I say your old rag of a Constitution is a ball-and-chain on your national leg. England is immeasurably better off so far as that goes.”

Ross turned to Virginia, leaving the political discussion to go on over his head. “I was back in the Old Island a couple of years ago, and you’ve no idea how small it seemed to me. It surely is a ‘right little, tight little island.’ I couldn’t help wondering whether the men in Parliament were as important as they seemed to think they were, and whether England is not really an empty shell of empire, a memory of what it once was. I couldn’t settle down there, someway. I was homesick for the mountains in a month. But what scared me most was the pauper population of the old place – one in every thirty-seven must be helped. I came back to the States gladly. ‘I guess I’m an American,’ I said to my sisters.”

To Lee Virginia all this talk of “the curse of democracy” and “the decay of empire” was unexciting, but when Cavanagh told of the sheepmen’s advance across the dead-line on Deer Creek, and of the threats of the cattle-owners, she was better able to follow the discussion. Bridges was heartily on the side of law and order, for he wished to boom the State (being a heavy owner in a town-site), but he objected to Redfield’s ideas of “bottling up the resources of the State.”

“We’re not,” retorted Redfield; “we’re merely defending them against those who would monopolize them. We believe in their fullest use, but we see no reason for giving away the resources when the country needs the revenue.”

Mrs. Redfield rose as soon as the coffee came on. “You gentlemen seem bent upon discussing matters of no interest to us,” she said, “so we’ll leave you to fight it out alone. I’m sure you’ll all agree with Hugh in the end. Like General Grant, he’s a very obstinate man.”

No sooner were they seated in the big living-room than Mrs. Enderby began to relate comical stories of her household. Her cats had fits and ran up the wall. Her dogs were forever getting quilled by reason of foolish attacks upon porcupines, or else they came home so reminiscent of skunks that they all but smothered the cook. “Invariably they return from encounters of this kind just as we are sitting at dinner,” she explained. “Furthermore, Enderby’s ditches are habitually getting clogged, and overflowing the lawn and filling the cellar, and he stands in terror of his cowboys. When I think of all these irruptions and distractions, England’s order and routine seem heavenly; but Charley finds all this amusing, more’s the pity, and leaves me to set things in order. Most ludicrous of all, to me, is his habitual claim that the ranch is paying. I tell him there’s an error in his bookkeeping somewhere, but he assures me that his receipts exceeded his expenditures last year – which is quite too incredible. You’ve no idea how high wages are and how little we raise.”

“Oh yes, I have,” laughed Mrs. Redfield, “and my cat had a fit too. Hugh says it’s the high altitude. I tell him it’s melancholia.”

Cavanagh showed himself. “I hear so much laughter I’m coming in, we’re all so insufferably political out here. And, besides, I came to see the ladies, and I can only stay a few minutes longer.”

“You’re not going back to-night!” exclaimed his hostess.

“I must be on my own precinct by daylight,” he replied; “the Supervisor has an eye on me.”

Mrs. Redfield explained to Lee Virginia. “He rode fifty miles over the mountains – ”

“Thirty,” corrected Ross. “But what does that matter when I’m in the company of such charming ladies?” he added, gallantly.

“And now he’s going to ride all the way back to-night!”

“Think of that,” gasped Mrs. Enderby, “and no moon!”

“How can you find your way?” asked Mrs. Bridges, to whom this was a mortally dangersome journey.

“Oh, it’s quite simple. If you don’t bump against a tree or fall into the creek you may be quite sure you’re on the trail,” laughed Ross.

Mrs. Redfield knew the true reason for his coming, and was not at all pleased, “for with all Lee’s personal charm,” she said to her husband, “she is socially beneath Ross Cavanagh, even in a State where social barriers are few.”

“Come out on the veranda,” suggested Cavanagh, “and I’ll show you the hills I must climb.”

Lee accepted innocently; but as the young people left the room Mrs. Enderby looked at her hostess with significant glance. “There’s the lady Ross rode down to meet. Who is she?”

“Her mother is that dreadful old creature that keeps the Wetherford Hotel in Roaring Fork.”

“No!” exclaimed Mrs. Enderby.

“Yes; Lee Virginia is Lize Wetherford’s daughter.”

“But the girl is charming.”

“I cannot understand it. Hugh came home a week or so ago full of her praise – ” And at this point her voice dropped lower and the other drew closer.

Outside, the young people stood in silence. There was no moon, and the mountains rose darkly, a sheer wall at the end of the garden, their tops cutting into the starry sky with a dull edge, over which a dim white cone peered.

“That snow-peak is Wolftooth, and thirty miles from here, and at the head of my ‘beat,’” said the ranger, after a pause, as they leaned against the railing and looked away to the south. “I go up that ridge which you see faintly at the left of the main canon, and through that deep notch which is above timber-line.”

The girl’s eyes widened with awe of the big, silent, dark world he indicated. “Aren’t you afraid to start out on such a trip alone – I mean, don’t you dread it?”

“I’ll be sorry to start back, yes, but not because of the dark. I’ve enjoyed my visit here so much it will be hard to say good-night.”

“It seems strange to me that you should prefer this wild country to England.”

“Do you like the East better than the West?”

“In some ways; but then, you see, I was born out here.”

“So was I – I mean to say I was regenerated out here. The truth is I was a good deal of a scapegrace when I left England. I was always for hunting and horses, and naturally I came directly to the wild West country, and here I’ve been ever since. I’ve had my turn at each phase of it – cow-puncher, soldier, Rough-rider, and finally forest ranger. I reckon I’ve found my job at last.”

“Do you like it so much?”

“At the present time I am perfectly contented. I’m associated now with a country that will never yield to the plough – yes, I like my work. I love the forests and the streams. I wish I might show them to you. You don’t know how beautiful they are. The most beautiful parks in the world are commonplace to what I can show you. My only sorrow is to think of them given over to the sawmill. Perhaps you and your mother will come up some time, and let me show you my lakes and streams. There are waters so lovely they make the heart ache. Hugh is planning to come up soon; perhaps you and Mrs. Redfield will come with him.”

“I’d like it above everything,” she responded, fervently. Then her voice changed: “But all depends on my mother’s health.”

It hurt him to hear her call Eliza Wetherford mother. He wanted to forget her origin for the moment. He was not in love with her – far from it! But she was so alluring, and the proprietress of the Wetherford House was not nice, and that made one doubt the daughter.

She broke the silence. “It seems dreadfully dark and mysterious up there.” She indicated his path.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks. There is a good trail, and my pony knows it as well as I do. I enjoy riding by night.”

“But there are bears and other wild things, are there not?”

“Not as many as I wish there were.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I hate to see all the wild life killed off. Some day all these forests will have game refuges like the Yellowstone National Park. They are coming each year to have greater and greater value to the people of the plains. They are playgrounds, like the Alps. Campers are coming into my valley every day, and, while they increase the danger of fires, I welcome them. They are all advocates of the forest. As one man said: ‘The mountains supplement the plains. They give color and charm to the otherwise monotonous West.’ I confess I couldn’t live on the prairies – not even on the plains – if out of sight of the mountains. If I should ever settle down to a home it would be in a canon like this, with a great peak at my front door.”

“It is beautiful,” the girl said, in the tone of sadness with which we confront the perfect night, the perfect flower, the flawless landscape. “It is both grand and peaceful.”

This tone of sadness pleased him. It showed her depth of perception, and he reflected that she had not uttered a vacuous or silly phrase since their first meeting. “She is capable of great development,” he thought. Aloud he said: “You are a strange mingling of East and West. Do you realize it?”

“In what way?” she asked, feeling something ardent in his tone.

“You typify to me at this moment this whole State. You fill me with enthusiasm for its future. Here you are, derived from the lawless West, yet taking on the culture and restraint of the East so readily that you seem not in the least related to – ”

He checked himself at this point, and she said: “My mother is not as rough as she seems, Mr. Cavanagh.”

“She must be more of the woman than appears, or she could not have borne such a daughter. But do you feel your relationship to her? Tell me honestly, for you interest me.”

“I didn’t at first, but I do now. I begin to understand her, and, besides, I feel in myself certain things that are in her, though I think I am more like the Wetherfords. My father’s family home was in Maryland.”

Ross could have talked on all night, so alluring was the girl’s dimly-seen yet warmly-felt figure at his side, but a sense of danger and a knowledge that he should be riding led him at last to say: “It is getting chill, we must go in; but before we do so, let me say how much I’ve enjoyed seeing you again. I hope the doctor will make favorable report on your mother’s case. You’ll write me the result of the examination, won’t you?”

“If you wish me to.”

“I shall be most anxious to know.”

They were standing very near to each other at the moment, and the ranger, made very sensitive to woman’s charm by his lonely life, shook with newly-created love of her. A suspicion, a hope that beneath her cultivated manner lay the passionate nature of her mother gave an added force to his desire. He was sorely tempted to touch her, to test her; but her sweet voice, a little sad and perfectly unconscious of evil, calmed him. She said:

“I hope to persuade my mother to leave the Forks. All the best people there are against us. Some of them have been very cruel to her and to me, and, besides, I despise and fear the men who come to our table.”

“You must not exchange words with them,” he all but commanded. “Beware of Gregg; he is a vile lot; do not trust him for an instant. Do not permit any of those loafers to talk with you, for if you do they will go away to defame you. I know them. They are unspeakably vile. It makes me angry to think that Gregg and his like have the right to speak to you every day while I can only see you at long intervals.”

His heat betrayed the sense of proprietorship which he had begun to feel, in spite of his resolution. But the girl only perceived his solicitation, his friendly interest, and she answered: “I keep away from them all I can.”

“You are right to distrust them,” he replied, grimly. “Because old Sam has money, he thinks he can do as he pleases. You must be especially careful of him.”

“The worst is when I go on the street; but if mother does not sell the business, I shall be obliged to stay in the Fork, no matter how I hate it.”

“I wish my station were not so far away,” he mused, darkly. “But I’ll ride down as often as my duties will permit, and you must let me know how things go. And if any of those fellows persecute you, you’ll tell me, won’t you? I wish you’d look upon me as your big brother. Will you do that?” His voice entreated, and as she remained silent, he continued: “Roaring Fork is one of the worst towns in the State, and a girl like you needs some one as a protector. I don’t know just how to put it so that you will not misunderstand me, but, you see, I protect the forest, the streams, and the game; I help the settler in time of trouble; I am a kind of all-round big brother to everybody who needs help in the forest. In fact, I’m paid for protecting things that can’t protect themselves, and so” – here he tried to lend his voice the accent of humor – “why shouldn’t I be the protector of a girl like you, alone – worse than alone – in this little cow-town?”

She remained dumb at one or two points where he clearly hoped for a word, and she was unable to thank him when he had finished. In this silence a curious constriction came into his throat. It was almost as if he had put his passion into definite words, and as the light fell upon her he perceived that her bosom was heaving with deep emotion.

“I am lonely,” she faltered out at last – “horribly lonely; and I know now how people feel toward my mother, and it hurts me – it all hurts me; but I’m going to stay and help her – ” She paused to recover her voice. “And you do seem different! I – I – trust you!”

“I’m glad you understand me, and you will let me know if I can help you, won’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered, simply.

“Good-night,” he said, extending his hand.

She placed her palm to his quite frankly, but the touch of it made further speech at the moment impossible.

They went in with such tell-tale faces that even Redfield wondered what had passed between them.

Excusing himself almost at once, Cavanagh left the room, and when he looked in, a few moments later, he was clothed in the ranger’s dusty green uniform, booted and spurred for his long, hard ride. Mrs. Redfield followed him into the hall and out on the door-stone to say: “Ross, you must be careful. This girl is very alluring in herself, but her mother, you know, is impossible.”

“You’re needlessly alarmed, as usual,” he smilingly replied. “She interests me – that’s patent; but beyond that, why – nonsense! Good-night.”

Nevertheless, despite his protestations, he went away up the trail with his mind so filled with Lee Virginia’s appealing face and form that he would certainly have ridden over a precipice had it not been for his experienced pony, who had fortunately but one aim, and that was to cross the range safely and to reach the home pasture at the earliest moment.

Now that he was looking back upon three hours more of Lee’s society, Cavanagh was ready to admit that he had left his range and ridden hard and far with that one purpose in mind. He had been hungry for the sight of her, and now that he had touched her hand and looked upon her again he was a little surprised and deeply disturbed to find himself hungrier than before.