CHAPTER VI.
ST. HELEN'S.
Never in her life had Clover felt so small and incompetent and so very,very young as when the train with Car Forty-seven attached vanished fromsight, and left her on the platform of the Denver station with her twocompanions. There they stood, Phil on one side tired and drooping, Mrs.Watson on the other blinking anxiously about, both evidently depending onher for guidance and direction. For one moment a sort of paleconsternation swept over her. Then the sense of the inevitable and thenobler sense of responsibility came to her aid. She rallied herself; thecolor returned to her cheeks, and she said bravely to Mrs. Watson,--
"Now, if you and Phil will just sit down on that settee over there andmake yourselves comfortable, I will find out about the trains for St.Helen's, and where we had better go for the night."
Mrs. Watson and Phil seated themselves accordingly, and Clover stood for amoment considering what she should do. Outside was a wilderness of tracksup and down which trains were puffing, in obedience, doubtless, to somelaw understood by themselves, but which looked to the uninitiated like thedirest confusion. Inside the station the scene was equally confused.Travellers just arrived and just going away were rushing in and out;porters and baggage-agents with their hands full hurried to and fro. Noone seemed at leisure to answer a question or even to listen to one.
Just then she caught sight of a shrewd, yet good-natured face looking ather from the window of the ticket-office; and without hesitation she wentup to the enclosure. It was the ticket-agent whose eye she had caught. Hewas at liberty at the moment, and his answers to her inquiries, thoughbrief, were polite and kind. People generally did soften to Clover. Therewas such an odd and pretty contrast between her girlish appealing look andher dignified little manner, like a child trying to be stately but onlysucceeding in being primly sweet.
The next train for St. Helen's left at nine in the morning, it seemed, andthe ticket-agent recommended the Sherman House as a hotel where they wouldbe very comfortable for the night.
"The omnibus is just outside," he said encouragingly. "You'll find it afirst-class house,--best there is west of Chicago. From the East? Just so.You've not seen our opera-house yet, I suppose. Denver folks are ratherproud of it. Biggest in the country except the new one in New York. Hopeyou'll find time to visit it."
"I should like to," said Clover; "but we are here for only one night. Mybrother's been ill, and we are going directly on to St. Helen's. I'm verymuch obliged to you."
Her look of pretty honest gratitude seemed to touch the heart of theticket-man. He opened the door of his fastness, and came out--actuallycame out!--and with a long shrill whistle summoned a porter whom headdressed as, "Here, you Pat," and bade, "Take this lady's things, and putthem into the 'bus for the Sherman; look sharp now, and see that she's allright." Then to Clover,--
"You'll find it very comfortable at the Sherman, Miss, and I hope you'llhave a good night. If you'll come to me in the morning, I'll explain aboutthe baggage transfer."
Clover thanked this obliging being again, and rejoined her party, who werepatiently sitting where she had left them.
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Watson as the omnibus rolled off, "I had no idea thatDenver was such a large place. Street cars too! Well, I declare!"
"And what nice shops!" said Clover, equally surprised.
Her ideas had been rather vague as to what was to be expected in the closeneighborhood of the Rocky Mountains; but she knew that Denver had onlyexisted a few years, and was prepared to find everything looking rough andunfinished.
"Why, they have restaurants here and jewellers' shops!" she cried. "Look,Phil, what a nice grocery! We needn't have packed all those oatmealbiscuits if only we had known. And electric lights! How wonderful! But ofcourse St. Helen's is quite different."
Their amazement increased when they reached the hotel, and were taken in alarge dining-room to order dinner from a bill of fare which seemed toinclude every known luxury, from Oregon salmon and Lake Superiorwhite-fish to frozen sherbets and California peaches and apricots. Butwonderment yielded to fatigue, and again as Clover fell asleep she wasconscious of a deep depression. What had she undertaken to do? How couldshe do it?
But a night of sound sleep followed by such a morning of uncloudedbrilliance as is seldom seen east of Colorado banished these misgivings.Courage rose under the stimulus of such air and sunshine.
"I must just live for each day as it comes," said little Clover toherself, "do my best as things turn up, keep Phil happy, and satisfy Mrs.Watson,--if I can,--and not worry about to-morrows or yesterdays. That isthe only safe way, and I won't forget if I can help it."
With these wise resolves she ran down stairs, looking so blithe and brightthat Phil cheered at the sight of her, and lost the long morning face hehad got up with, while even Mrs. Watson caught the contagion, and becamefairly hopeful and content. A little leaven of good-will and good heart inone often avails to lighten the heaviness of many.
The distance between Denver and St. Helen's is less than a hundred miles,but as the railroad has to climb and cross a range of hills between twoand three thousand feet high, the journey occupies several hours. As thetrain gradually rose higher and higher, the travellers began to get wideviews, first of the magnificent panorama of mountains which lies to thenorthwest of Denver, sixty miles away, with Long's Peak in the middle, andafter crossing the crest of the "Divide," where a blue little lake rimmedwith wild-flowers sparkled in the sun, of the more southern ranges. Aftera while they found themselves running parallel to a mountain chain ofstrange and beautiful forms, green almost to the top, and intersected withdeep ravines and cliffs which the conductor informed them were "canyons."They seemed quite near at hand, for their bases sank into low roundedhills covered with woods, these melted into undulating table-lands, andthose again into a narrow strip of park-like plain across which ran thetrack. Flowers innumerable grew on this plain, mixed with grass of a tawnybrown-green. There were cactuses, red and yellow, scarlet and whitegillias, tall spikes of yucca in full bloom, and masses of a superb whitepoppy with an orange-brown centre, whose blue-green foliage was pricklylike that of the thistle. Here and there on the higher uplands appearedstrange rock shapes of red and pink and pale yellow, which looked likecastles with towers and pinnacles, or like primitive fortifications.Clover thought it all strangely beautiful, but Mrs. Watson found faultwith it as "queer."
"It looks unnatural, somehow," she objected; "not a bit like the East. Rednever was a favorite color of mine. Ellen had a magenta bonnet once, andit always worried--But Henry liked it, so of course--People can't seethings the same way. Now the green hat she had winter before lastwas--Don't you think those mountains are dreadfully bright and distinct? Idon't like such high-colored rocks. Even the green looks red, somehow. Ilike soft, hazy mountains like Blue Hill and Wachusett. Ellen spent asummer up at Princeton once. It was when little Cynthia haddiphtheria--she's named after me, you know, and Henry he thought--But Idon't like the staring kind like these; and somehow those buildings, whichthe conductor says are not buildings but rocks, make my flesh creep."
"They'd be scrumptious places to repel attacks of Indians from," observedPhil; "two or three scouts with breech-loaders up on that scarlet wallthere could keep off a hundred Piutes."
"I don't feel that way a bit," Clover was saying to Mrs. Watson. "I likethe color, it's so rich; and I think the mountains are perfectlybeautiful. If St. Helen's is like this I am going to like it, I know."
St. Helen's, when they reached it, proved to be very much "like this,"only more so, as Phil remarked. The little settlement was built on a lowplateau facing the mountains, and here the plain narrowed, and thebeautiful range, seen through the clear atmosphere, seemed only a mile ortwo away, though in reality it was eight or ten. To the east the plainwidened again into great upland sweeps like the Kentish Downs, with hereand there a belt of black woodland, and here and there a line of lowbluffs. Viewed from a height, with the cloud-shadows sweeping across it,it had th
e extent and splendor of the sea, and looked very much like it.
The town, seen from below, seemed a larger place than Clover had expected,and again she felt the creeping, nervous feeling come over her. But beforethe train had fairly stopped, a brisk, active little man jumped on board,and walking into the car, began to look about him with keen, observanteyes. After one sweeping glance, he came straight to where Clover wascollecting her bags and parcels, held out his hand, and said in a pleasantvoice, "I think this must be Miss Carr."
"I am Dr. Hope," he went on; "your father telegraphed when you were toleave Chicago, and I have come down to two or three trains in the hope ofmeeting you."
"Have you, indeed?" said Clover, with a rush of relief. "How very kind ofyou! And so papa telegraphed! I never thought of that. Phil, here is Dr.Hope, papa's friend; Dr. Hope, Mrs. Watson."
"This is really a very agreeable attention,--your coming to meet us,"said Mrs. Watson; "a very agreeable attention indeed. Well, I shall writeEllen--that's my daughter, Mrs. Phillips, you know--that before we had gotout of the cars, a gentleman--And though I've always been in the habit ofgoing about a good deal, it's always been in the East, of course, andthings are--What are we going to do first, Dr. Hope? Miss Carr has a greatdeal of energy for a girl, but naturally--I suppose there's an hotel atSt. Helen's. Ellen is rather particular where I stay. 'At your age,Mother, you must be made comfortable, whatever it costs,' she says; and soI--An only daughter, you know--but you'll attend to all those things forus now, Doctor."
"There's quite a good hotel," said Dr. Hope, his eyes twinkling a little;"I'll show it to you as we drive up. You'll find it very comfortable ifyou prefer to go there. But for these young people I've taken rooms at aboarding-house, a quieter and less expensive place. I thought it was whatyour father would prefer," he added in a lower tone to Clover.
"I am sure he would," she replied; but Mrs. Watson broke in,--
"Oh, I shall go wherever Miss Carr goes. She's under my care, youknow--Though at the same time I must say that in the long run I havegenerally found that the most expensive places turn out the cheapest. AsEllen often says, get the best and--What do they charge at this hotel thatyou speak of, Dr. Hope?"
"The Shoshone House? About twenty-five dollars a week, I think, if youmake a permanent arrangement."
"That _is_ a good deal," remarked Mrs. Watson, meditatively, while Cloverhastened to say,--
"It is a great deal more than Phil and I can spend, Dr. Hope; I am gladyou have chosen the other place for us."
"I suppose it _is_ better," admitted Mm Watson; but when they gained thetop of the hill, and a picturesque, many-gabled, many-balconied structurewas pointed out as the Shoshone, her regrets returned, and she began againto murmur that very often the most expensive places turned out thecheapest in the end, and that it stood to reason that they must be thebest. Dr. Hope rather encouraged this view, and proposed that she shouldstop and look at some rooms; but no, she could not desert her youngcharges and would go on, though at the same time she must say that heropinion as an older person who had seen more of the world was--She wasused to being consulted. Why, Addy Phillips wouldn't order that crushedstrawberry bengaline of hers till Mrs. Watson saw the sample, and--Butgirls had their own ideas, and were bound to carry them out, Ellen alwayssaid so, and for her part she knew her duty and meant to do it!
Dr. Hope flashed one rapid, comical look at Clover. Western life sharpensthe wits, if it does nothing else, and Westerners as a general thingbecome pretty good judges of character. It had not taken ten minutes forthe keen-witted little doctor to fathom the peculiarities of Clover's"chaperone," and he would most willingly have planted her in the congenialsoil of the Shoshone House, which would have provided a wider field forher restlessness and self-occupation, and many more people to listen toher narratives and sympathize with her complaints. But it was no use. Shewas resolved to abide by the fortunes of her "young friends."
While this discussion was proceeding, the carriage had been rolling down awide street running along the edge of the plateau, opposite the mountainrange. Pretty houses stood on either side in green, shaded door-yards,with roses and vine-hung piazzas and nicely-cut grass.
"Why, it looks like a New England town," said Clover, amazed; "I thoughtthere were no trees here."
"Yes, I know," said Dr. Hope smiling. "You came, like most Eastern people,prepared to find us sitting in the middle of a sandy waste, on cactuspincushions, picking our teeth with bowie-knives, and with no neighborsbut Indians and grizzly bears. Well; sixteen years ago we could havefilled the bill pretty well. Then there was not a single house in St.Helen's,--not even a tent, and not one of the trees that you see here hadbeen planted. Now we have three railroads meeting at our depot, apopulation of nearly seven thousand, electric lights, telephones, a goodopera-house, a system of works which brings first-rate spring water intothe town from six miles away,--in short, pretty much all the modernconveniences."
"But what _has_ made the place grow so fast?" asked Clover.
"If I may be allowed a professional pun, it is built up on coughings. Itis a town for invalids. Half the people here came out for the benefit oftheir lungs."
"Isn't that rather depressing?"
"It would be more so if most of them did not look so well that no onewould suspect them of being ill. Here we are."
Clover looked out eagerly. There was nothing picturesque about the houseat whose gate the carriage had stopped. It was a large shabby structure,with a piazza above as well as below, and on these piazzas various peoplewere sitting who looked unmistakably ill. The front of the house, however,commanded the fine mountain view.
"You see," explained Dr. Hope, drawing Clover aside, "boarding-places thatare both comfortable and reasonable are rather scarce at St. Helen's. Iknow all about the table here and the drainage; and the view is desirable,and Mrs. Marsh, who keeps the house, is one of the best women we have.She's from down your way too,--Barnstable, Mass., I think."
Clover privately wondered how Barnstable, Mass., could be classed as"down" the same way with Burnet, not having learned as yet that to thesoaring Western mind that insignificant fraction of the whole countryknown as "the East," means anywhere from Maine to Michigan, and that suchtrivial geographical differences as exist between the different sectionsseem scarcely worth consideration when compared with the vast spaceswhich lie beyond toward the setting sun. But perhaps Dr. Hope was onlytrying to tease her, for he twinkled amusedly at her puzzled face as hewent on,--
"I think you can make yourselves comfortable here. It was the best I coulddo. But your old lady would be much better suited at the Shoshone, and Iwish she'd go there."
Clover could not help laughing. "I wish that people wouldn't persist incalling Mrs. Watson my old lady," she thought.
Mrs. Marsh, a pleasant-looking person, came to meet them as they entered.She showed Clover and Phil their rooms, which had been secured for them,and then carried Mrs. Watson off to look at another which she could haveif she liked.
The rooms were on the third floor. A big front one for Phil, with a sunnysouth window and two others looking towards the west and the mountains,and, opening from it, a smaller room for Clover.
"Your brother ought to live in fresh air both in doors and out," said Dr.Hope; "and I thought this large room would answer as a sort of sittingplace for both of you."
"It's ever so nice; and we are both more obliged to you than we can say,"replied Clover, holding out her hand as the doctor rose to go. He gave apleased little laugh as he shook it.
"That's all right," he said. "I owe your father's children any good turnin my power, for he was a good friend to me when I was a poor boy justbeginning, and needed friends. That's my house with the red roof, MissClover. You see how near it is; and please remember that besides the careof this boy here, I'm in charge of you too, and have the inside track ofthe rest of the friends you are going to make in Colorado. I expect to becalled on whenever you want anything, or feel lonesome, or are at a lossin
any way. My wife is coming to see you as soon as you have had yourdinner and got settled a little. She sent those to you," indicating a vaseon the table, filled with flowers. They were of a sort which Clover hadnever seen before,--deep cup-shaped blossoms of beautiful pale purple andwhite.
"Oh, what are they?" she called after the doctor.
"Anemones," he answered, and was gone.
"What a dear, nice, kind man!" cried Clover. "Isn't it delightful to havea friend right off who knows papa, and does things for us because we arepapa's children? You like him, don't you, Phil; and don't you like yourroom?"
"Yes; only it doesn't seem fair that I should have the largest."
"Oh, yes; it is perfectly fair. I never shall want to be in mine exceptwhen I am dressing or asleep. I shall sit here with you all the time; andisn't it lovely that we have those enchanting mountains just before oureyes? I never saw anything in my life that I liked so much as I do thatone."
It was Cheyenne Mountain at which she pointed, the last of the chain, andset a little apart, as it were, from the others. There is as muchdifference between mountains as between people, as mountain-lovers know,and like people they present characters and individualities of their own.The noble lines of Mount Cheyenne are full of a strange dignity; but it isdignity mixed with an indefinable charm. The canyons nestle about itsbase, as children at a parent's knee; its cedar forests clothe it likedrapery; it lifts its head to the dawn and the sunset; and the sun seemsto love it best of all, and lies longer on it than on the other peaks.
Clover did not analyze her impressions, but she fell in love with it atfirst sight, and loved it better and better all the time that she stayedat St. Helen's. "Dr. Hope and Mount Cheyenne were our first friends in theplace," she used to say in after-days.
"How nice it is to be by ourselves!" said Phil, as he lay comfortably onthe sofa watching Clover unpack. "I get so tired of being all the timewith people. Dear me! the room looks quite homelike already."
Clover had spread a pretty towel over the bare table, laid some books andher writing-case upon it, and was now pinning up a photograph over themantel-piece.
"We'll make it nice by-and-by," she said cheerfully; "and now that I'vetidied up a little, I think I'll go and see what has become of Mrs.Watson. She'll think I have quite forgotten her. You'll lie quiet and resttill dinner, won't you?"
"Yes," said Phil, who looked very sleepy; "I'm all right for an hour tocome. Don't hurry back if the ancient female wants you."
Clover spread a shawl over him before she went and shut one of thewindows.
"Clover spread a shawl over him before she left, and shutone of the windows."]
"We won't have you catching cold the very first morning," she said. "Thatwould be a bad story to send back to papa."
She found Mrs. Watson in very low spirits about her room.
"It's not that it's small," she said. "I don't need a very big room; but Idon't like being poked away at the back so. I've always had a front roomall my life. And at Ellen's in the summer, I have a corner chamber, andsee the sea and everything--It's an elegant room, solid black walnut withmarble tops, and--Lighthouses too; I have three of them in view, and theyare really company for me on dark nights. I don't want to be fussy, butreally to look out on nothing but a side yard with some trees--and theyaren't elms or anything that I'm used to, but a new kind. There's a thingout there, too, that I never saw before, which looks like one of the giantants' nests of Africa in 'Morse's Geography' that I used to read aboutwhen I was--It makes me really nervous."
Clover went to the window to look at the mysterious object. It was acone-shaped thing of white unburned clay, whose use she could not guess.She found later that it was a receptacle for ashes.
"I suppose _your_ rooms are front ones?" went on Mrs. Watson, querulously.
"Mine isn't. It's quite a little one at the side. I think it must be justunder this. Phil's is in front, and is a nice large one with a view ofthe mountains. I wish there were one just like it for you. The doctor saysthat it's very important for him to have a great deal of air in his room."
"Doctors always say that; and of course Dr. Hope, being a friend of yoursand all--It's quite natural he should give you the preference. Though thePhillips's are accustomed--but there, it's no use; only, as I tell Ellen,Boston is the place for me, where my family is known, and people realizewhat I'm used to."
"I'm so sorry," Clover said again. "Perhaps somebody will go away, andMrs. Marsh have a front room for you before long."
"She did say that she might. I suppose she thinks some of her boarderswill be dying off. In fact, there is one--that tall man in gray in thereclining-chair--who didn't seem to me likely to last long. Well, we willhope for the best. I'm not one who likes to make difficulties."
This prospect, together with dinner, which was presently announced, raisedMrs. Watson's spirits a little, and Clover left her in the parlor,exchanging experiences and discussing symptoms with some ladies who hadsat opposite them at table. Mrs. Hope came for a call; a pretty littlewoman, as friendly and kind as her husband. Then Clover and Phil went outfor a stroll about the town. Their wonder increased at every turn; that aplace so well equipped and complete in its appointments could have beencreated out of nothing in fifteen years was a marvel!
After two or three turns they found themselves among shops, whoseplate-glass windows revealed all manner of wares,--confectionery, newbooks, pretty glass and china, bonnets of the latest fashion. One or twolarge pharmacies glittered with jars--purple and otherwise--enough totempt any number of Rosamonds. Handsome carriages drawn by fine horsesrolled past them, with well-dressed people inside. In short, St. Helen'swas exactly like a thriving Eastern town of double its size, with thedifference that here a great many more people seemed to ride than todrive. Some one cantered past every moment,--a lady alone, two or threegirls together, or a party of rough-looking men in long boots, or a singleranchman sitting loose in his stirrups, and swinging a stock whip.
Clover and Phil were standing on a corner, looking at some "Rocky MountainCuriosities" displayed for sale,--minerals, Pueblo pottery, stuffedanimals, and Indian blankets; and Phil had just commented on the beauty ofa black horse which was tied to a post close by, when its rider emergedfrom a shop, and prepared to mount.
He was a rather good-looking young fellow, sunburnt and not very tall, butwith a lithe active figure, red-brown eyes and a long mustache of tawnychestnut. He wore spurs and a broad-brimmed sombrero, and carried in hishand a whip which seemed two-thirds lash. As he put his foot into thestirrup, he turned for another look at Clover, whom he had rather staredat while passing, and then changing his intention, took it out again, andcame toward them.
"I beg your pardon," he said; "but aren't you--isn't it--Clover Carr?"
"Yes," said Clover, wondering, but still without the least notion as towhom the stranger might be.
"You've forgotten me?" went on the young man, with a smile which made hisface very bright. "That's rather hard too; for I knew you at once. Isuppose I'm a good deal changed, though, and perhaps I shouldn't have madeyou out except for your eyes; they're just the same. Why, Clover, I'm yourcousin, Clarence Page!"
"Clarence Page!" cried Clover, joyfully; "not really! Why, Clarence, Inever should have known you in the world, and I can't think how you cameto know me. I was only fourteen when I saw you last, and you were quite alittle boy. What good luck that we should meet, and on our first day too!Some one wrote that you were in Colorado, but I had no idea that you livedat St. Helen's."
"I don't; not much. I'm living on a ranch out that way," jerking hiselbow toward the northwest, "but I ride in often to get the mail. Have youjust come? You said the first day."
"Yes; we only got here this morning. And this is my brother Phil. Don'tyou recollect how I used to tell you about him at Ashburn?"
"I should think you did," shaking hands cordially; "she used to talk aboutyou all the time, so that I felt intimately acquainted with all thefamily. Well, I call this first
rate luck. It's two years since I saw anyone from home."
"Home?"
"Well; the East, you know. It all seems like home when you're out here.And I mean any one that I know, of course. People from the East come outall the while. They are as thick as bumblebees at St. Helen's, but theydon't amount to much unless you know them. Have you seen anything ofmother and Lilly since they got back from Europe, Clover?"
"No, indeed. I haven't seen them since we left Hillsover. Katy has,though. She met them in Nice when she was there, and they sent her awedding present. You knew that she was married, didn't you?"
"Yes, I got her cards. Pa sent them. He writes oftener than the others do;and he came out once and stayed a month on the ranch with me. That waswhile mother was in Europe. Where are you stopping? The Shoshone, Isuppose."
"No, at a quieter place,--Mrs. Marsh's, on the same street."
"Oh, I know Mother Marsh. I went there when I first came out, and hadcaught the mountain fever, and she was ever so kind to me. I'm glad youare there. She's a nice woman."
"How far away is your ranch?"
"About sixteen miles. Oh, I say, Clover, you and Phil must come out andstay with us sometime this summer. We'll have a round-up for you if youwill."
"What is a 'round-up' and who is 'us'?" said Clover, smiling.
"Well, a round-up is a kind of general muster of the stock. All theanimals are driven in and counted, and the young ones branded. It's prettyexciting sometimes, I can tell you, for the cattle get wild, and it's allwe can do to manage them. You should see some of our boys ride; it'ssplendid, and there's one half-breed that's the best hand with the lasso Iever saw. Phil will like it, I know. And 'us' is me and my partner."
"Have you a partner?"
"Yes, two, in fact; but one of them lives in New Mexico just now, so hedoes not count. That's Bert Talcott. He's a New York fellow. The other'sEnglish, a Devonshire man. Geoff Templestowe is his name."
"Is he nice?"
"You can just bet your pile that he is," said Clarence, who seemed to haveassimilated Western slang with the rest of the West. "Wait till I bringhim to see you. We'll come in on purpose some day soon. Well, I must begoing. Good-by, Clover; good-by, Phil. It's awfully jolly to have youhere."
"I never should have guessed who it was," remarked Clover, as they watchedthe active figure canter down the street and turn for a last flourish ofthe hat. "He was the roughest, scrubbiest boy when we last met. What afine-looking fellow he has grown to be, and how well he rides!"
"No wonder; a fellow who can have a horse whenever he has a mind to," saidPhil, enviously. "Life on a ranch must be great fun, I think."
"Yes; in one way, but pretty rough and lonely too, sometimes. It will benice to go out and see Clarence's, if we can get some lady to go with us,won't it?"
"Well, just don't let it be Mrs. Watson, whoever else it is. She wouldspoil it all if she went."
"Now, Philly, don't. We're supposed to be leaning on her for support."
"Oh, come now, lean on that old thing! Why she couldn't support a postagestamp standing edgewise, as the man says in the play. Do you suppose Idon't know how you have to look out for her and do everything? She's not abit of use."
"Yes; but you and I have got to be polite to her, Philly. We mustn'tforget that."
"Oh, I'll be polite enough, if she will just leave us alone," retortedPhil.
Promising!
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