Nevada (1995) (12 page)

"Well! The lazy sons-of-guns!" ejaculated Ben. "I'll fire th
e
whole caboodle of them."

Ina's tender solicitude and Ben's anger at once calmed Hettie.

"Oh no, Ben. It's not so--so bad as that. They only hatched ever
y
pretense and excuse to approach me--just to make outrageous love."

Ben's haw-haw mingled with Ina's scream of laughter. Hettie had t
o
accept that mirth with the best grace possible. Her troubles wer
e
over, at last, and she could not but forgive the suitors who had s
o
besieged her. The high spirits of Ben and Ina and the certai
n
evidence of her mother's improvement were sufficient to lift Hetti
e
to the heights.

"What'd you bring me from Frisco?" she asked presently, with all
a
child's eagerness.

"Candy," replied Ben, with a smile.

"A new spring dress and hat--oh, adorable," replied Ina.

"Well, daughter, I fetched you somethin' too," added Mrs. Ide
,
beaming.

"I--I'm almost glad you went off and left me alone," responde
d
Hettie, gratefully.

Nothing was said during supper about the main object of the journe
y
to San Francisco. Ina told of their trips to the stores, and Be
n
of their jaunts to seashore and parks and theaters. Later, whe
n
Mrs. Ide had retired, Ben took Hettie into Ina's room, where th
e
ecstatic Blaine gloated over his new toys.

"Well, Hettie, your sending us off on this trip means a grea
t
change in our lives," began Ben, gravely.

"Oh--Ben!" faltered Hettie.

Here Ina interposed to reprove Ben for his abruptness and lack o
f
tact. Then she added, "Hettie dear, it's nothing to frighten you."

"Winter and spring are too damp and cold for mother," continue
d
Ben. "To keep her here longer will endanger her life."

"Then we certainly won't keep her," replied Hettie, resolutely.

"Exactly. Ina and I got that far, anyway, in our decision."

"Will mother--be all right in some other climate?" queried Hettie
,
with hesitation.

"She'll get well," answered Ben. "She needs a mild, dry, war
m
climate in winter and a high, dry, bracing climate in summer."

"Where can we find them?"

"Easy enough. But the thing that stumps Ina and me is how t
o
decide what's best to do."

"That's easy enough," returned Hettie. "I will go with mother an
d
live with her."

"Sure you will. But that doesn't solve the problem."

"Surely we can afford it, Ben?"

"I reckon. However, the point is I don't want to be separated fro
m
mother and you. Neither does Ina. That much is settled. We won'
t
be separated."

Hettie gazed with suddenly dim eyes at her brother. He and In
a
felt what she had not spoken. They were both in dead earnest, an
d
Ina's color had faded. Evidently they had talked this thing over
,
to a conclusion that was momentous.

"Ben, you can't imagine how happy you make me," said Hettie
,
feelingly. "Separation would be hard. I have only mother and yo
u
and yours to live for. . . . Then, if you won't let mother and m
e
leave you . . ."

"We've sure got to go with you," interrupted Ben, forcibly. "Bu
t
what to do is sure a sticker."

"Sell--out!" said Hettie, huskily.

"But we've lived here all our lives. This land has made u
s
prosperous. It's home."

"Ben, it'd not be home without mother."

"No. And it wouldn't be the same if we were all separated. Bu
t
I'd hate to sacrifice the land just to get a quick sale. And we'l
l
need money, wherever we go."

"Ben, I can sell this lake property of ours for two hundre
d
thousand," declared Hettie.

Her brother stared at her. At length he spoke: "Hettie, don'
t
make wild statements like that. It's hard enough on me to mak
e
decisions."

"I can sell for that TO-MORROW," grandly added Hettie, conscious o
f
a sudden tremendous importance.

"Now I know she's crazy," wailed Ben, turning to his wife.

"She looks pretty sure and sane to me, Bennie boy. You're only
a
wild-horse hunter, anyway. Hettie and I have the business brains."

"By George!" cried Ben, leaping up. "You're right. But I can'
t
believe we could sell for that."

"It's true, Ben. Listen," said Hettie, and then briefly told abou
t
the offer of the Klamath Falls syndicate.

"Horses not included in the deal? Not California Red?" querie
d
Ben, beginning to manifest signs of extreme excitement.

"Their offer embraced land and buildings on this ranch, and all th
e
Ide cattle. But not horses."

"Girls, it's settled, it's done!" cried Ben, giving way to th
e
force of something that had been impelling him. He kissed Ina an
d
hugged Hettie. He tore up and down the room. He woke littl
e
Blaine, who had fallen asleep on the bed amid his toys.

"Ben, aren't you ashamed? All that show of gladness over sellin
g
our home!" exclaimed Ina, reproachfully.

Hettie did not voice her surprise and disapproval. She had no
t
seen Ben show excitement like that for years. What did it mean?

Ben ceased his violent expressions and faced them, quite pale, wit
h
his dark eyes full of fire.

"Forgive me and try to understand," he said. "Remember I have no
t
the tender associations with Tule Lake that actuate you girls. I
t
is home and I reckon I love it, but not as you. Father was hard o
n
me for years. He made me an outcast. For years more I lived ove
r
there across the sage hills, hunting wild horses, lonely an
d
wretched. Then Nevada dropped into my life. Then, Ina, you came
,
too. . . . And so between you I was brought home again. Bu
t
despite all, there has been something lacking. . . . This ranc
h
country is too populated for me. It is too rich. There's no
t
enough hard work for me. The sage hills and the valleys, once s
o
wild, where the horses roamed free, are now ranches and farms. I'
d
be happier in a new country--say in Arizona, where the ranges ar
e
vast and ranches few. I'd do better, working as I used to. . . .

That's why I'm glad to sell out here, to take mother where she'l
l
get strong again, where you all will be the happier because o
f
these things."

"Arizona? Ben, you didn't tell me you'd decided," expostulate
d
Ina.

"I hadn't until now. Hettie settled it, bless her heart."

"Arizona!" murmured Hettie, thoughtfully. "We know so littl
e
about Arizona. Isn't it very wild?"

"Wild? I reckon," replied Ben. "Arizona is everything norther
n
California used to be. Then it has vast grass and sage ranges
,
desert and valley, canyons and mountains, great forests, grea
t
rivers. There are thousands of wild horses in Arizona. Deer
,
bear, lion, turkey--wonderful hunting. It has minerals--gold
,
silver, copper. There's just been war between cattlemen an
d
sheepmen. Oh, it is a wonderful country for the pioneer."

"Hettie," added Ina, "we met an Arizonian in Frisco, a grizzled ol
d
fellow. I wish you could have seen him. He surely was full o
f
Arizona. But Ben didn't tell you all."

"What'd I forget?" inquired Ben, lamely.

"About the bad crews who live off the ranchers--Indians, Mexicans
,
rustlers, horse thieves, wild cowboys, gunmen--and I don't remembe
r
who else. That plan of Arizona worries me, Ben, if you must g
o
there."

"It'd worry me, too, if I thought I'd fall into such company as th
e
old Arizonian bragged about. But he was only blowing. . . . A
t
that, though, I think I could stand a few wild cowboys. Couldn'
t
you, Hettie?"

He spoke teasingly and laughed with something of his ol
d
boyishness. Verily this possibility of Arizona had stimulated him.

Hettie tried to smile, but her effort was a wan one. There ha
d
seemed to come a knocking at her heart.

"I'll keep Forlorn River Ranch and Mule Deer Flat," mused Ben
,
pacing the room. "I'd never part with them. We own them, Nevad
a
and I, share and share alike. . . . Some day I'll come back to se
e
them, and who knows?"

Hettie lay sleepless and distracted late into the hours of th
e
night.

She could not tell whether she wanted to weep or rejoice. Ben'
s
revelation had not been such a surprise, though the violence of hi
s
feeling dismayed her. Despite all that wealth, home, wife, chil
d
could give Ben, he yearned for the old free life in the open, fo
r
his lean-faced beloved friend, for the color of the sage and th
e
movement of wild horses on the horizon. How he had welcomed thi
s
opportunity to get away from Tule Lake! And Ina was as wise as sh
e
was loving. Her home was where her heart abided. That night sh
e
had followed Hettie to her room to say: "Hettie, we didn't gues
s
how it was with Ben. And I want to ask you, don't you think thi
s
change will be as good for Ben's soul as for mother's health?"

"I do indeed, Ina," Hettie had replied. "Ben was a strange boy
,
even when he was little. Father never understood him."

"Well, I'll be happy with Ben anywhere," returned Ina, simply. "M
y
folks will make a fuss about this. They'll be shocked to hear w
e
are going back to the pioneer life in far-away Arizona. Money ha
s
made snobs of my people, except Marvie. He's eighteen now, and a
s
wild to hunt and fish and ride as when he used to run away t
o
Forlorn River. He just worshiped Ben and Nevada. He and dad ar
e
at odds now. I wonder how our going will effect Marvie?"

"Ina, you needn't wonder," said Hettie. "That boy will go wit
h
us."

"Oh, if he only could!" sighed Ina. "But dad would rave at th
e
very idea."

"Marvie will run off," declared Hettie, positively.

Whenever Hettie's thoughts wandered back to herself, she wanted t
o
weep. There was regret, of course, mingled with the emotion
s
roused by the thought of leaving Tule Lake, where she had lived al
l
her life. But not regret was it that threatened to bring th
e
tears. Rather a joy rising from the depths of her! The ol
d
oppressive certainty that Nevada would never come back to Forlor
n
River was now lifted from her heart. She would no longer eat he
r
heart out in waiting. Over there in wild Arizona she might see hi
m
again. Ben would never cease to search for Nevada. Surely h
e
would locate him some day. How Ben loved that comrade of hi
s
lonely Forlorn River days!