CHAPTER IX.
OVER A PASS.
True to their resolve, the young heads of the High Valley Ranch rodetogether to St. Helen's next day,--ostensibly to get their letters; inreality to call on their late departed guests. They talked amicably asthey went; but unconsciously each was watching the other's mood andspeech. To like the same girl makes young men curiously observant of eachother.
A disappointment was in store for them. They had taken it for granted thatClover would be as disengaged and as much at their service as she had beenin the valley; and lo! she sat on the piazza with a knot of girls abouther, and a young man in an extremely "fetching" costume of snow-whiteduck, with a flower in his button-hole, was bending over her chair, andtalking in a low voice of something which seemed of interest. He lookedprovokingly cool and comfortable to the dusty horsemen, and very much athome. Phil, who lounged against the piazza-rail opposite, dispensed anenormous and meaning wink at his two friends as they came up the steps.
Clover jumped up from her chair, and gave them a most cordial reception.
"How delightful to see you again so soon!" she said. Then she introducedthem to a girl in pink and a girl in blue as Miss Perham and MissBlanchard, and they shook hands with Marian Chase, whom they already knew,and lastly were presented to Mr. Wade, the youth in white. The three youngmen eyed one another with a not very friendly scrutiny, just veiled by thenecessary outward politeness.
"Then you will be all ready for Thursday,--and your brother too, ofcourse,--and my mother will stop for you at half-past ten on her waydown," they heard him say. "Miss Chase will go with the Hopes. Oh, yes;there will be plenty of room. No danger about that. We're almost sure tohave good weather too. Good-morning. I'm so glad you enjoyed the roses."
There was a splendid cluster of Jacqueminot buds in Clover's dress, atwhich Clarence glared wrathfully as he caught these words. The onlyconsolation was that the creature in duck was going. He was making hislast bows; and one of the girls went with him, which still farther reducedthe number of what in his heart Clarence stigmatized as "a crowd."
"I must go too," said the girl in blue. "Good-by, Clover. I shall run in aminute to-morrow to talk over the last arrangements for Thursday."
"What's going to happen on Thursday?" growled Clarence as soon as she haddeparted.
"Oh, such a delightful thing," cried Clover, sparkling and dimpling. "OldMr. Wade, the father of young Mr. Wade, whom you saw just now, is adirector on the railroad, you know; and they have given him thedirector's car to take a party over the Marshall Pass, and he has askedPhil and me to go. It is _such_ a surprise. Ever since we came to St.Helen's, people have been telling us what a beautiful journey it is; but Inever supposed we should have the chance to take it. Mrs. Hope is goingtoo, and the doctor, and Miss Chase and Miss Perham,--all the people weknow best, in fact. Isn't it nice?"
"Oh, certainly; very nice," replied Clarence, in a tone of deep offence.He was most unreasonably in the sulks. Clover glanced at him withsurprise, and then at Geoff, who was talking to Marian. He looked a littleserious, and not so bright as in the valley; but he was making himselfvery pleasant, notwithstanding. Surely he had the same causes forannoyance as Clarence; but his breeding forbade him to show whateverinward vexation he may have felt,--certainly not to allow it to influencehis manners. Clover drew a mental contrast between the two which was notto Clarence's advantage.
"Who's that fellow anyway?" demanded Clarence. "How long have you knownhim? What business has he to be bringing you roses, and making up partiesto take you off on private cars?"
Something in Clover's usually soft eyes made him stop suddenly.
"I beg your pardon," he said in an altered tone.
"I really think you should," replied Clover, with pretty dignity.
Then she moved away, and began to talk to Geoff, whose grave courtesy atonce warmed into cheer and sun.
Clarence, thus left a prey to remorse, was wretched. He tried to catchClover's eye, but she wouldn't look at him. He leaned against thebalustrade moody and miserable. Phil, who had watched these variousinterludes with interest, indicated his condition to Clover with anothertelegraphic wink. She glanced across, relented, and made Clarence a littlesignal to come and sit by her.
After that all went happily. Clover was honestly delighted to see her twofriends again. And now that Clarence had recovered from his ill-temper,there was nothing to mar their enjoyment. Geoff's horse had cast a shoe onthe way down, it seemed, and must be taken to the blacksmith's, so theydid not stay very long; but it was arranged that they should come back todinner at Mrs. Marsh's.
"What a raving belle you are!" remarked Marian Chase, as the young menrode away. "Three is a good many at a time, though, isn't it?"
"Three what?"
"Three--hem! leaves--to one Clover!"
"It's the usual allowance, I believe. If there were four, now--"
"Oh, I dare say there will be. They seem to collect round you like waspsround honey. It's some natural law, I presume,--gravitation or levitation,which is it?"
"I'm sure I don't know, and don't try to tease me, Poppy. People out hereare so kind that it's enough to spoil anybody."
"Kind, forsooth! Do you consider it all pure kindness? Really, for such abelle, you're very innocent."
"I wish you wouldn't," protested Clover, laughing and coloring. "I neverwas a belle in my life, and that's the second time you've called me that.Nobody ever said such things to me in Burnet."
"Ah, you had to come to Colorado to find out how attractive you could be.Burnet must be a very quiet place. Never mind; you sha'n't be teased,Clover dear. Only don't let this trefoil of yours get to fighting with oneanother. That good-looking cousin of yours was casting quite murderousglances at poor Thurber Wade just now."
"Clarence is a dear boy; but he's rather spoiled and not quite grown upyet, I think."
"When are you coming back from the Marshall Pass?" inquired Geoff, afterdinner, when Clarence had gone for the horses.
"On Saturday. We shall only be gone two days."
"Then I will ride in on Thursday morning, if you will permit, with myfield-glass. It is a particularly good one, and you may find it useful forthe distant views."
"When are you coming back?" demanded Clarence, a little later. "Saturday?Then I sha'n't be in again before Monday."
"Won't you want your letters?"
"Oh, I guess there won't be any worth coming for till then."
"Not a letter from your mother?"
"She only writes once in a while. Most of what I get comes from pa."
"Cousin Olivia never did seem to care much for Clarence," remarked Clover,after they were gone. "He would have been a great deal nicer if he had hada pleasanter time at home. It makes such a difference with boys. Now Mr.Templestowe has a lovely mother, I'm sure."
"Oh!" was all the reply that Phil would vouchsafe.
"How queer people are!" thought little Clover to herself afterward."Neither of those boys quite liked our going on this expedition, Ithink,--though I'm sure I can't imagine why; but they behaved sodifferently. Mr. Templestowe thought of us and something which might giveus pleasure; and Clarence only thought about himself. Poor Clarence! henever had half a chance till he came here. It isn't all his fault."
The party in the director's car proved a merry one. Mrs. Wade, a jolly,motherly woman, fond of the good things of life, and delighting in makingpeople comfortable, had spared no pains of preparation. There werequantities of easy-chairs and fans and eau-de-cologne; the larder wasstocked with all imaginable dainties,--iced tea, lemonade, and champagnecup flowed on the least provocation for all the hot moments, and eachtable was a bank of flowers. Each lady had a superb bouquet; and on thesecond day a great tin box of freshly-cut roses met them at Pueblo, sothat they came back as gayly furnished forth as they went. Having theprivilege of the road, the car was attached or detached to suit theirconvenience, and this enabled them to command daylight for all the finestpoints of the excursion.
/> First of these was the Royal Gorge, where the Arkansas River pours througha magnificent canyon, between precipices so steep and with curves so sharpthat only engineering genius of the most daring order could, it wouldseem, have devised a way through. Then, after a pause at the pretty townof Salida, with the magnificent range of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains infull sight, they began to mount the pass over long loops of rail, whichdoubled and re-doubled on themselves again and again on their way to thesummit. The train had been divided; and the first half with its twoengines was seen at times puffing and snorting directly overhead of thesecond half on the lower curve.
With each hundred feet of elevation, the view changed and widened. Now itwas of over-lapping hills set with little mesas, like folds of greenvelvet flung over the rocks; now of dim-seen valley depths with windinglinks of silver rivers; and again of countless mountain peaks sharp-cutagainst the sunset sky,--some rosy pink, some shining with snow.
The flowers were a continual marvel. At the top of the pass, eleventhousand feet and more above the sea, their colors and their abundancewere more profuse and splendid than on the lower levels. There were wholefields of pentstemons, pink, blue, royal purple, or the rare scarletvariety, like stems of asparagus strung with rubies. There were masses ofgillias, and of wonderful coreopsis, enormous cream-colored stars withdeep-orange centres, and deep yellow ones with scarlet centres; thicketsof snowy-cupped mentzelia and of wild rose; while here and there a tallred lily burned like a little lonely flame in the green, or regiments ofconvolvuli waved their stately heads.
From below came now and again the tinkle of distant cow-bells. These, andthe plaintive coo of mourning-doves in the branches, and the rush of thewind, which was like cool flower-scented wine, was all that broke thestillness of the high places.
"To think I'm so much nearer heaven Than when I was a boy,"
misquoted Clover, as she sat on the rear platform of the car, with Poppy,and Thurber Wade.
"Are you sure your head doesn't ache? This elevation plays the mischiefwith some people. My mother has taken to her berth with ice on hertemples."
"Headache! No, indeed. This air is too delicious. I feel as though I coulddance all the way from here to the Black Canyon."
"You don't look as if your head ached, or anything," said Mr. Wade,staring at Clover admiringly. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, hereyes full of light and exhilaration.
"Oh dear! we are beginning to go down," she cried, watching one of thebeautiful peaks of the Sangre de Cristos as it dipped out of sight. "Ithink I could find it in my heart to cry, if it were not that to-morrowwe are coming up again."
So down, down, down they went. Dusk slowly gathered about them; and thewhite-gloved butler set the little tables, and brought in broiled chickenand grilled salmon and salad and hot rolls and peaches, and they were allvery hungry. And Clover did not cry, but fell to work on her supper withan excellent appetite, quite unconscious that they were speeding throughanother wonderful gorge without seeing one of its beauties. Then the carwas detached from the train; and when she awoke next morning they were atthe little station called Cimmaro, at the head of the famous Black Canyon,with three hours to spare before the train from Utah should arrive to takethem back to St. Helen's.
Early as it was, the small settlement was awake. Lights glanced from theeating-house, where cooks were preparing breakfast for the "through"passengers, and smokes curled from the chimneys. Close to the car was alarge brick structure which seemed to be a sort of hotel for locomotives.A number of the enormous creatures had evidently passed the night there,and just waked up. Clover now watched their antics with great amusementfrom her window as their engineers ran them in and out, rubbed them downlike horses, and fed them with oil and coal, while they snorted and backedand sidled a good deal as real horses do. Clover could not at allunderstand what all these manoeuvres were for,--they seemed only designedto show the paces of the iron steeds, and what they were good for.
"Miss Clover," whispered a voice outside her curtains, "I've got hold of ahand-car and a couple of men; and don't you want to take a spin down thecanyon and see the view with no smoke to spoil it? Just you and me andMiss Chase. She says she'll go if you will. Hurry, and don't make a noise.We won't wake the others."
Of course Clover wanted to. She finished her dressing at top-speed,hurried on her hat and jacket, stole softly out to where the othersawaited her, and in five minutes they were smoothly running down thegorge, over high trestle-work bridges and round sharp curves which madeher draw her breath a little faster. There was no danger, the men whomanaged the hand-car assured them; it was a couple of hours yet before thenext train came in; there was plenty of time to go three or four milesdown and return.
Anything more delicious than the early morning air in the Black Canyon itwould be difficult to imagine. Cool, odorous with pines and with thebreath of the mountains, it was like a zestful draught of iced summer.Close beside the track ran a wondrous river which seemed made of meltedjewels, so curiously brilliant were its waters and mixed of so many hues.Its course among the rocks was a flash of foaming rapids, broken here andthere by pools of exquisite blue-green, deepening into inky-violet underthe shadow of the cliffs. And such cliffs!--one, two, three thousand feethigh; not deep-colored like those about St. Helen's, but of steadfastmountain hues and of magnificent forms,--buttresses and spires; cragswhose bases were lost in untrodden forests; needle-sharp pinnacles likethe Swiss Aiguilles. The morning was just making its way into the canyon;and the loftier tops flashed with yellow sun, while the rest were still incold shadow.
Breakfast was just ready when the hand-car arrived again at the upper endof the gorge, and loud were the reproaches which met the happy three asthey alighted from it. Phil was particularly afflicted.
"I call it mean not to wake a fellow," he said.
"But a fellow was _so_ sound asleep," said Clover, "I really hadn't theheart. I did peep in at your curtain, and if you had moved so much as afinger, _perhaps_ I should have called you; but you didn't."
The return journey was equally fortunate, and the party reached St.Helen's late in the evening of the second day, in what Mr. Wade called"excellent form." Monday brought the young men from the ranch in again;and another fortnight passed happily, Clover's three "leaves" being mostfaithfully attentive to their central point of attraction. "Three is agood many," as Marian Chase had said, but all girls like to be liked, andClover did not find this, her first little experience of the kind, at alldisagreeable.
The excursion to the Marshall Pass, however, had an after effect which wasnot so pleasant. Either the high elevation had disagreed with Phil, or hehad taken a little cold; at all events, he was distinctly less well. Withthe lowering of his physical forces came a corresponding depression ofspirits. Mrs. Watson worried him, the sick people troubled him, the soundof coughing depressed him, his appetite nagged, and his sleep was broken.Clover felt that he must have a change, and consulted Dr. Hope, whoadvised their going to the Ute Valley for a month.
This involved giving up their rooms at Mrs. Marsh's, which was a pity, asit was by no means certain that they would be able to get them againlater. Clover regretted this; but Fate, as Fate often does, brought acompensation. Mrs. Watson had no mind whatever for the Ute Valley.
"It's a dull place, they tell me, and there's nothing to do there but rideon horseback, and as I don't ride on horseback, I really don't see whatuse there would be in my going," she said to Clover. "If I were young, andthere were young men ready to ride with me all the time, it would bedifferent; though Ellen never did care to, except with Henry of course,after they--And I really can't see that your brother's much different fromwhat he was, though if Dr. Hope says so, naturally you--He's a queer kindof doctor, it seems to me, to send lung patients up higher thanthis,--which is high already, gracious knows. No; if you decide to go, Ishall just move over to the Shoshone for the rest of the time that I'mhere. I'm sure that Dr. Carr couldn't expect me to stay on here alone,just for the cha
nce that you may want to come back, when as like as not,Mrs. Marsh won't be able to take you again."
"Oh, no; I'm quite sure he wouldn't. Only I thought," doubtfully, "that asyou've always admired Phil's room so much, you might like to secure it nowthat we have to go."
"Well, yes. If you were to be here, I might. If that man who's so sick hadgot better, or gone away, or something, I dare say I should have settleddown in his room and been comfortable enough. But he seems just about ashe was when we came, so there's no use waiting; and I'd rather go to theShoshone anyway. I always said it was a mistake that we didn't go there inthe first place. It was Dr. Hope's doing, and I have not the leastconfidence in him. He hasn't osculated me once since I came."
"Hasn't he?" said Clover, feeling her voice tremble, and perfectly awareof the shaking of Phil's shoulders behind her.
"No; and I don't call just putting his ear to my chest, listening. Dr.Bangs, at home, would be ashamed to come to the house without hisstethoscope. I mean to move this afternoon. I've given Mrs. Marshnotice."
So Mrs. Watson and her belongings went to the Shoshone, and Clover packedthe trunks with a lighter heart for her departure.
The last day of July found Clover and Phil settled in the Ute Park. It wasa wild and beautiful valley, some hundreds of feet higher than St.Helen's, and seemed the very home of peace. A Sunday-like quiet pervadedthe place, whose stillness was never broken except by bird-songs and therustle of the pine branches.
The sides of the valley near its opening were dotted here and there withhuts and cabins belonging to parties who had fled from the heat of theplains for the summer. At the upper end stood the ranch house,--a large,rather rudely built structure,--and about it were a number of cabins andcottages, in which two, four, or six people could be accommodated. Cloverand Phil were lodged in one of these. The tiny structure contained only asitting and two sleeping rooms, and was very plain and bare. But there wasa fireplace; wood was abundant, so that a cheerful blaze could be had forcool evenings; and the little piazza faced the south, and made a shelteredsitting place on windy days.
One pleasant feature of the spot was its nearness to the High Valley.Clarence and Geoff Templestowe thought nothing of riding four miles; andscarcely a day passed when one or both did not come over. They broughtwild-flowers, or cream, or freshly-churned butter, as offerings from theranch; and, what Clover valued as a greater kindness yet, they broughtPhil's beloved broncho, Sorrel, and arranged with the owner of the Uteranch that it should remain as long as Phil was there. This gave Philhours of delightful exercise every day; and though sometimes he set outearly in the morning for the High Valley, and stayed later in theafternoon than his sister thought prudent, she had not the heart to chide,so long as he was visibly getting better hour by hour.
Sundays the friends spent together, as a matter of course. Geoff waitedtill his little home service for the ranchmen was over, and then wouldgallop across with Clarence to pass the rest of the day. There was no lackof kind people at the main house and in the cottages to take an interestin the delicate boy and his sweet, motherly sister; so Clover had anabundance of volunteer matrons, and plenty of pleasant ways in which tospend those occasional days on which the High Valley attaches failed toappear.
It was a simple, healthful life, the happiest on the whole which they hadled since leaving home. Once or twice Mr. Thurber Wade made hisappearance, gallantly mounted, and freighted with flowers and kindmessages from his mother to Miss Carr; but Clover was never sorry when herode away again. Somehow he did not seem to belong to the Happy Valley, asin her heart she denominated the place.
There was a remarkable deal of full moon that month, as it seemed; atleast, the fact served as an excuse for a good many late transits betweenthe valley and the park. Now and then either Clarence or Geoff would leadover a saddle-horse and give Clover a good gallop up or down the valley,which she always enjoyed. The habit which she had extemporized for hervisit to the High Valley answered very well, and Mrs. Hope had lent her ahat.
On one of these occasions she and Clarence had ridden farther than usual,quite down to the end of the pass, where the road dipped, and descended tothe little watering-place of Canyon Creek,--a Swiss-like village of hotelsand lodging-houses and shops for the sale of minerals and mineral waters,set along the steep sides of a narrow green valley. They were chattinggayly, and had just agreed that it was time to turn their horses' headshomeward, when a sudden darkening made them aware that one of theunexpected thunder-gusts peculiar to the region was upon them.
They were still a mile above the village; but as no nearer place ofshelter presented itself, they decided to proceed. But the storm movedmore rapidly than they; and long before the first houses came in sight theheavy drops began to pelt down. A brown young fellow, lying flat on hisback under a thick bush, with his horse standing over him, shouted to themto "try the cave," waving his hand in its direction; and hurrying on, theysaw in another moment a shelving brow of rock in the cliff, under whichwas a deep recess.
To this Clarence directed the horses. He lifted Clover down. She half sat,half leaned on the slope of the rock, well under cover, while he stretchedhimself at full length on a higher ledge, and held the bridles fast. Thehorses' heads and the saddles were fairly well protected, but thehindquarters of the animals were presently streaming with water.
"This isn't half-bad, is it?" Clarence said. His mouth was so close toClover's ear that she could catch his words in spite of the noisy thunderand the roar of the descending rain.
"No; I call it fun."
"You look awfully pretty, do you know?" was the next and very unexpectedremark.
"Nonsense."
"Not nonsense at all."
At that moment a carriage dashed rapidly by, the driver guiding the horsesas well as he could between the points of an umbrella, which constantlymenaced his eyes. Other travellers in the pass had evidently beensurprised by the storm besides themselves. The lady who held the umbrellalooked out, and caught the picture of the group under the cliff. It was asuggestive one. Clover's hat was a little pushed forward by the rockagainst which she leaned, which in its turn pushed forward the wavingrings of hair which shaded her forehead, but did not hide her laughingeyes, or the dimples in her pink cheeks. The fair, slender girl, the dark,stalwart young fellow so close to her, the rain, the half-shelteredhorses,--it was easy enough to construct a little romance.
The lady evidently did so. It was what photographers call an"instantaneous effect," caught in three seconds, as the carriage whirledpast; but in that fraction of a minute the lady had nodded and flashed abrilliant, sympathetic smile in their direction, and Clover had nodded inreturn, and laughed back.
"A good many people seem to have been caught as we have," she said, asanother streaming vehicle dashed by.
"I wish it would rain for a week," observed Clarence.
"My gracious, what a wish! What would become of us if it did?"
"We should stay here just where we are, and I should have you all tomyself for once, and nobody could come in to interfere with me."
"Thank you extremely! How hungry we should be! How can you be so absurd,Clarence?"
"I'm not absurd at all. I'm perfectly in earnest."
"Do you mean that you really want to stay a week under this rock withnothing to eat?"
"Well, no; not exactly that perhaps,--though if you could, I would. But Imean that I would like to get you for a whole solid week to myself. Thereis such a gang of people about always, and they all want you. Clover," hewent on, for, puzzled at his tone, she made no answer, "couldn't you likeme a little?"
"I like you a great deal. You come next to Phil and Dorry with me."
"Hang Phil and Dorry! Who wants to come next to them? I want you to likeme a great deal more than that. I want you to love me. Couldn't you,Clover?"
"How strangely you talk! I do love you, of course. You're my cousin."
"I don't care to be loved 'of course.' I want to be loved for myself.Clover, you know what I
mean; you must know. I can afford to marry now;won't you stay in Colorado and be my wife?"
"I don't think you know what you are saying, Clarence. I'm older than youare. I thought you looked upon me as a sort of mother or older sister."
"Only fifteen months older," retorted Clarence. "I never heard of anyone's being a mother at that age. I'm a man now, I would have youremember, though I am a little younger than you, and know my own mind aswell as if I were fifty. Dear Clovy," coaxingly, "couldn't you? You likedthe High Valley, didn't you? I'd do anything possible to make it nice andpleasant for you."
"I do like the High Valley very much," said Clover, still with the feelingthat Clarence must be half in joke, or she half in dream. "But, my dearboy, it isn't my home. I couldn't leave papa and the children, and stayout here, even with you. It would seem so strange and far away."
"You could if you cared for me," replied Clarence, dejectedly; Clover'skind, argumentative, elder-sisterly tone was precisely that which is mostdiscouraging to a lover.
"Oh, dear," cried poor Clover, not far from tears herself; "this isdreadful!"
"What?" moodily. "Having an offer? You must have had lots of them beforenow."
"Indeed I never did. People don't do such things in Burnet. Please don'tsay any more, Clarence. I'm very fond of you, just as I am of the boys;but--"
"But what? Go on."
"How can I?" Clover was fairly crying.
"You mean that you can't love me in the other way."
"Yes." The word came out half as a sob, but the sincerity of the accentwas unmistakable.
"Well," said poor Clarence, after a long bitter pause; "it isn't yourfault, I suppose. I'm not good enough for you. Still, I'd have done mybest, if you would have taken me, Clover."
"I am sure you would," eagerly. "You've always been my favorite cousin,you know. People can't _make_ themselves care for each other; it has tocome in spite of them or not at all,--at least, that is what the novelssay. But you're not angry with me, are you, dear? We will be good friendsalways, sha'n't we?" persuasively.
"I wonder if we can," said Clarence, in a hopeless tone. "It doesn't seemlikely; but I don't know any more about it than you do. It's my firstoffer as well as yours." Then, after a silence and a struggle, he added ina more manful tone, "We'll try for it, at least. I can't afford to giveyou up. You're the sweetest girl in the world. I always said so, and I sayso still. It will be hard at first, but perhaps it may grow easier withtime."
"Oh, it will," cried Clover, hopefully. "It's only because you're solonely out here, and see so few people, that makes you suppose I am betterthan the rest. One of these days you'll find a girl who is a great dealnicer than I am, and then you'll be glad that I didn't say yes. There! therain is just stopping."
"It's easy enough to talk," remarked Clarence, gloomily, as he gathered upthe bridles of the horses; "but I shall do nothing of the kind. I declareI won't!"
Clover Page 9