Nevada (1995) (35 page)

They rode perhaps five miles before the trail began to penetrat
e
deeper into the forest and to ascend into rockier and roughe
r
country. They climbed high, and Hettie had a glimpse now and the
n
of the red desert far to the north, and the black slopes beneat
h
her, falling away to the west. She soon gathered what the brake
s
of the Mogollons meant. The brakes were canyons, running like th
e
ridges of a washboard, walled with brush and rock, choked wit
h
dense thickets, above which the lofty pines and spruces towered.

Ridge after ridge Marvie climbed and descended, until coming to
a
deeper, clearer canyon he turned off to follow a willow-bordere
d
stream.

As they progressed, again riding at a lope, the canyon widened an
d
deepened, the walls grew rugged and unscalable, the fringe of pine
s
on the rims lifted higher, and every aspect of the wildernes
s
seemed likewise intensified. The time came when the horses had t
o
walk again, down and down, under narrow gray shelves of stone
,
under the massed foliage of maple, oak, aspen, all beginning t
o
show a tint of autumn, especially the fluttering aspens, jus
t
turning to gold. The stream grew larger, swifter, deeper, and it
s
mellow roar filled the dreamy solitude.

At corners, where the trail turned, Marvie always exercised
a
caution which added more than romance to Hettie's feelings. Thi
s
adventure grew with the miles. How dark, still, lonely some of th
e
constrictions in this brake of the Mogollons!

Turkeys ran fleetly from the open grass patches into the thickets;
d
eer walked up the steep wooded slopes; elk stopped their browsin
g
on the willows to gaze at the disturbers of their solitude; beave
r
slipped off their muddy dams to make swirls in the still gree
n
pools; squirrels chattered; jays squalled; ravens croaked; hawk
s
sailed across the blue strip of sky overhead.

"Somewhere along here we'll meet her," whispered Marvie, fearfully.

"It always scares me. That Cedar Hatt might be prowlin' along th
e
rim to spy us. Rose is cute, though. I've waited half a da
y
before she came."

They wound along the crooked trail, and if it were possible, Hetti
e
imagined every vista wilder and more hauntingly beautiful than th
e
last. The white bleached grass, the green willows, the ambe
r
rocks, the rushing foaming brook, the thickets of oak and aspen
,
russet and gold, the wonderful walls rising sheer, stained an
d
mossy, gray and purple, up to the ragged fringed rims--all thes
e
aided the movement of leaves, the flash of birds, the fragrance o
f
pine, the utter solitude, into working an enchantment upon Hettie'
s
senses. No wonder Marvie had fallen in love with his wild Rose.

"I see her horse," whispered Marvie, as he halted. "She'll b
e
near. We'll get off now. I'll hide our horses in the aspe
n
thicket."

Hettie got off to hand her bridle to him, and waited while he le
d
their mounts out of sight. How noiselessly he moved! Marvie ha
d
become a woodsman. Soon he returned and led her off the trail int
o
the grass.

"Anyone ridin' along behind us would sure see our tracks," h
e
whispered. "But that's a slim chance. You see it's an old unuse
d
trail here. The Hatts live over in the next canyon."

"She's a brave kid, to meet you this way. And you're not such
a
coward, Marvie, boy," returned Hettie.

He led her up a gradual grassy slope, into the protecting shelte
r
of low pines and silver spruces. "Look at the elk beds," h
e
whispered, pointing to round places where grass and moss had bee
n
flattened.

Hettie espied a ragged red pony, without a saddle, haltered to
a
sapling. Then she saw a dark curly head rise above the tall grass.

Next moment Marvie was speaking low: "Hettie, this is Ros
e
Hatt. . . . Rose, I've fetched her. This's Hettie Ide, my bes
t
friend an' sort of sister."

As Hettie sank down, smiling, with hands outstretched, the gir
l
rose to her knees, her eyes dilating, her face without color.

"Rose, I'm glad--to meet you," whispered Hettie, pantingly, and sh
e
kissed the girl.

"Oh, Miss Ide--you're good to come," faltered Rose. She wa
s
trembling all over. This child of the wilderness was nothing les
s
than terrified at meeting one of Marvie's kin.

Marvie knelt beside Rose, and it was evident this was a torturin
g
moment for him, too. The romance and excitement had passed. Be
n
Ide's sister was now face to face with the daughter of rustler an
d
backwoodsman Elam Hatt, with the sister of notorious Cedar Hatt.

"Hettie, I reckon Rose won't be so scared an' shy if I leave yo
u
alone with her," said Marvie. "So I'll keep watch below. An'
d
on't forget we haven't lots of time."

Then with a bright and reassuring look at Rose he slipped off unde
r
the low-spreading trees. Hettie turned to the girl, trying t
o
think of words to put her at ease. How like a woodland wil
d
flower! Rose wore a buckskin blouse fringed and beaded, a ragge
d
brown skirt, and boots without stockings. She held a sprig of tin
y
aspen leaves, turning gold.

"Rose, since Marvie loves you, I must love you, too," said Hettie
,
speaking not what she had intended, but the words that welled fro
m
her heart. She did not need to be told that Rose Hatt had neve
r
had love of mother, sister, or friend. The girl gave a littl
e
gasping cry of wonder and pain, then fell into Hettie's arms, wher
e
she burst into tears.

This made the ordeal easier for Hettie, and she held the girl i
n
silence until the paroxysms of weeping had subsided. Then sh
e
began to talk, kindly, soothingly, as if to a child, saying sh
e
hardly knew what, until the moment came when she felt she migh
t
venture a question. But before she could ask it Rose sat up, wipe
d
her wet face, and smiled through her tears.

"Marvie was right," she said. "It's sure good to see you, hea
r
you, now I'm over my scare. I'll never forget you till my dyin'
d
ay."

"Rose, you love Marvie, very much?" said Hettie, venturing to ope
n
the serious interview.

"Yes," replied the girl, simply. "I couldn't help it. But I
d
idn't know at first. Not till the dance."

"Then you two have pledged your troth?"

"If you mean told our love, yes--Miss Ide. But I didn't promise t
o
marry Marvie."

"He asked you, of course?"

"He begged me to," replied the girl, lifting her head with pride.

"Why did you refuse?"

"I love Marvie too well to hurt him with you an' all his family."

"Do you mean you think you'd disgrace him and us because you're
a
Hatt?"

"Yes, an' a good deal more I haven't told Marvie," she went on
,
steady of voice, though her round breast heaved. "Cedar would com
e
down on Marvie an' you an' your brother Ben for money. An' s
o
would another man whose name I daren't tell. He--this man--has go
t
a hold on Cedar--an' me. He'd ruin us all."

"Rose, that's a strong statement," said Hettie. "But even if i
t
isn't exaggerated it doesn't change the fact that you and Marvi
e
ought to wait. You're both very young."

"I'm not exaggeratin'. I could tell you more. An' about marryin'--

Marvie's reason for hurry is to get me away from the life I live.

It's tumble, Miss Ide. I have to cook, wash, scrub for an outfi
t
of rustlers an' hoss-thieves. Look at my hands! Look at the blac
k
marks--here--an' there. I get kicked an' beat. Marvie knows an'
h
e can't stand it any longer."

"Could you not leave this home?" queried Hettie, earnestly.

"I've thought of that. Yes. I could. My dad wouldn't care. Bu
t
I'd have to be a servant--or worse."

"No, indeed. Rose, you could come to my home."

"Oh, how--wonderful!" gasped the girl, rapturously clasping he
r
hands. "But that'd be 'most the same as marryin' Marvie, so far a
s
Cedar an'--that other man are concerned. . . . No, it'd never do.

But thank you--bless you!"

"Rose, we mustn't despair," continued Hettie, touched to the hear
t
by this girl's sincerity. "Time will help us. If you could onl
y
escape this--this drudgery and shame."

"That's the hope which keeps me up, Miss Ide. If I could only tid
e
over a little time! Cedar is goin' to hell fast. He's rustlin'
,
gamblin', drinkin' harder than ever. He's under the thumb of--th
e
man I daren't squeal on."

"But why daren't you?"

"Because if HE didn't kill me, Cedar would. I'm the only on
e
outside of this Pine Tree outfit who KNOWS. An' my life ain'
t
worth much."

"Pine Tree outfit!" echoed Hettie, her eyes lighting. "That's th
e
mysterious gang of rustlers."

"It sure is. I'm trustin' you with my life, Miss Hettie. But I
d
aren't tell more. Nobody knows how secrets slip out. You migh
t
talk in your sleep."

"Naturally. But I think you could risk it, considering I slee
p
alone," said Hettie. "Rose, this IS a plot. We're all involved.

Your people and mine. What a tangle! It must have been fate tha
t
brought you and Marvie together. Oh, if I only knew how best t
o
advise you."

"Reckon I wish so, too. But I've got a hunch. It's my job t
o
stick home--to fool my people--to learn all I can--to fight tha
t
devil off who--who . . . I must see Marvie very seldom an' be sur
e
we're never ketched. Somethin' will happen, Miss Ide. You've mad
e
me feel it. You made things different. Neither Cedar--nor HIM
,
can last long in this country. Not now. I heard my dad sa
y
so. . . . Oh, this is the second time my hopes have risen. Oh
,
I wish I could tell you of another friend I found lately. I
f
orgot. . . . But he came to my house an' there was hell. I
l
istened at night through the chinks of the logs. Cedar was wild.

Cash Burridge was there. 'We've got a big deal on,' says Cash.

An' that pleased all the gang except Cedar. They set to whisperin'
a
n' I heard no more."

"Rose--isn't your friend--Jim Lacy?" whispered Hettie, haltingly
,
with dry lips.

The girl caught her breath and drew back sharply, wonder the mos
t
predominant of her varying emotions.