XXXV
THE BATTLE WITH THE WEEDS
Between the planting and the reaping lay the sun-smitten summer-time anda battle with the weeds! It was a period demanding patience andunderstanding in Curtis, for as the first flush of enthusiasm over thesowing died away, apathy and indifference sprang up naturally asthistles. These childlike souls said: "Behold we have done our part, nowlet Mother Earth and the Father Sun bring forth the harvest. We cannotripen the grain; we can only wait. Besides, we are weary."
To them harvest should follow seeding without further effort. They werelike boys wearied with waiting for the trees to grow. The seed and theapple were too far apart. Curtis, understanding this lack of training intheir lives, did not allow himself to express the impatience hesometimes felt. He told them that the new life they were to leadinvolved constant care, but care would bring a reward. "In the old dayswhen you hunted, these things were not so." He also made honorableexamples of men like Two Horns and Crane's Voice, who kept their gardensclean of all noxious plants.
He organized mimic war-parties. "To-day," he said, "the warriors of Elkwill go forth with me against these evil ones, the weeds. Each man willbe armed with a bright hoe. Elk, old as he is, will lead, and I will goby his side. We will work busily till the sun has climbed half-way tohis hill; then we will smoke."
His knowledge of their needs, their habits, their modes of thinking,made all that he did successful. He allowed the women to bring cooldrinks, flavored with herbs, and to build little bowers to shade theirsons and husbands from the fierce sun while they rested. There wasgrumbling, there was envy, naturally, but less than he expected.
On the first day of July he was confident of a big crop, and wrote toElsie, saying: "The potatoes are in bloom, the wheat is waving in thewind like a green sea. I am waiting."
To this she replied: "Papa's mind turns to the mountains these hot days,and so we are coming; also my heart yearns for a certain soldier in theWest--a commander of shining hoes and a leader of destructive redploughmen. I ought, for my own peace and comfort, to forget thissingular creature; but, alas! I cannot. My perplexity grows daily. Ilong to see him, yet I am afraid!"
These words made him tireless and of Job-like patience. "You need notwait till the harvest is ended," he wrote, in reply. "Come and watch thegrain ripen, so that you will be garmented duly and ready for the feast.Moreover, we will snatch so many more days of joy out of the maw ofdevouring time."
To this she answered: "Your expressed reasons are not overwhelming, butas the sun is scorching now, we leave soon. We will reach Pinon City inabout ten days. Father is quite well, but restless with the heat. I amwell, but restless, for other reasons. I don't see that the problem ofour lives is any nearer solution, do you? What can I do? What can youdo? Is there any common ground?"
"There are no problems now that you are coming," he replied.
It was with a deep surprise and joy that she found herself tremblingbefore each of his letters. All the old-time ecstasy and breathlesspassion of her girlhood came back to her, but enlarged, and baseddeeper, a woman's care and introspection giving it greater significanceand power.
The next day after Elsie's definite promise Curtis rode over to thefirst camp and called the people round him and said:
"Next week we will hold our feast to give thanks for the good things theearth has given to us, and after we have councilled together we willfeast and have a dance. Let everything be in order. Come in your finestdress. Let every garment be as it was of old. Let the young girls bevery beautiful in whitened buckskin and beads. I do not despise yourold-time dress; I like it. Hereafter, when you work you will need towear white man's clothes, for they are more comfortable; but when youwish to have a good time, then your old dress will be pleasant. I do notask you to forget the old time. It is past, but it is sweet to you. Iwant you to be happy, for I am happy."
The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop Page 35