CHAPTER VI
EVE AT HEART'S DESIRE
_How the Said Eve arrived on the Same Stage with Eastern Capital, tothe Interest of All, and the Embarrassment of Some._
The sun drew on across the enchanted valley and began to sink towardthe rim of the distant Baxter Peak. The tremendous velvet robes of thepurple evening shadows dropped slowly down upon the majestic shouldersof Carrizo, guardian of the valley. A delicious kindness came into theair, sweet, although no flower was in all that land, and soft, thoughthis was far from any sea, unless it were the waters immeasurably deepbeneath this sun-dried soil. There was no cloud even at the falling ofthe sun, but the gun had no harshness in his glow. There was a blueand purple mystery over all the world, and calm and sweetness andstrength came down as it were a mantle. Ah, never in all the world wasa place like this Eden, this man's Eden of Heart's Desire!
A gentle wind sighed up the valley from the narrow canon mouth, as itdid every day. There was no variableness. Surprises did not comethither. The world ran always in one pleasant and unchanging groove.But the breeze this evening brought no smile of content to DanAnderson's face as he sat waiting for the coming of the new and fatefulvisitor to our ancient Eden.
"They'll be about at the Carrizoso Springs now," said Dan Anderson,"twelve miles away down the trail. Can't you smell the cold cream?"
This was beyond ken, but he became more explicit. "Cold cream to theeyes and ears," said he. "To the untutored face, the sun of thisheathen district is something sinful; and like enough she never heardof collodion for cracked lips in an alkali country. And a veil--oh,sacred spirits! that veil and its contents is now hatin' Carrizosoflats and all the inarticulate earth till fare-ye-well! Wrapped up tothe topmast in a white veil,--or one of was-white,--gray travellinggown, common-sense boots. Gloves--ah, yes. And hate--hate--why, can'tyou feel the simmerin', boilin' hatred of that States girl just raisin'the temperature of this land of Canaan? Hate us? Why, she'll bepoisonous. Ninety miles in the sun, at ninety in the shade. Wateronce at the Mal Pais, and it alkali."
I reminded Dan Anderson that in view of his promise to absent himselfat the time of the arrival of the Socorro stage, he was not conductinghimself with the proper regard either to decorum or historical accuracy.
"I want to go," said Dan Anderson, "and I ought to go. I ought to goclimb that tree and leave a pink and lavender card of regrets for thelady and her dad. I reckon I will go, too, if I can ever get thisfaintness out of my legs. But somehow I can't get started. I'd lookwell, tryin' to climb a tree with my legs this way, wouldn't I? Man,haven't you any sympathy?"
So we sat on a log out in front of Uncle Jim Brothers's hotel, andwaited for the worst to happen.
"Don't you go away," said Dan Anderson. "I want you for my second.You can go for the doctor. I ain't feelin' very well."
Now, there was no doctor in Heart's Desire, nor had there ever been, asDan Anderson knew. Neither did he look in need of any help whatsoever.He made no foolish masculine attempt at personal adornment, but hislong figure, with good bony shoulders and a visible waist line, lookedwell enough in the man's garb of blue shirt and belted trousers. Arope of hair straggled from under his wide hat; for in Heart's Desirewide hats were worn of right and not in affectation. He was a manlyman enough, in a place where weak men were rare. The one most vitallyconcerned in all the population of Heart's Desire, he was now the oneleast visibly affected. All the rest of the settlement, suddenlysmitten by the news that the stage was coming with Eastern Capital anda live Woman, had hastened under cover in search of coats and neckties.Dan Anderson sat out on the street just as he had been, and watched thepurple mysteries dropping on the mountains, and waited grimly for thatwhich was to come to him. True, there was the slight moisture on hisbrow and on his under lip, but otherwise his agitation displayed itselfonly in an occasional exuberance of metaphor.
For my own part, I remained unreconciled to these impending events."What will you do?" I asked Dan Anderson bitterly, "now that you'vebeen ass enough to allow this girl to come on down in here? You'llhave some one killed in this town before long. Besides, where can awhite girl live in this place? There's not a bedspread or a linensheet in the whole town."
"You talk like a chambermaid," said Dan Anderson, scornfully. "Do yousuppose a Wellesley girl, accustomed steady to high thinkin', can't getalong with a little plain livin' once in a while? As for women folks,why can't Curly's girl take care of her? Does a chance lady caller inthis city need a _thousand_ women to entertain her? Andblankets--why, you know well enough, that blankets are better aftersundown here than much fine linen. Heart's Desire'll be here calm andconfident after this brief pageantry has passed from our midst."
As he spoke, he half turned and started, with a broken exclamation. Ifollowed his gaze. The street was vacant, barren of the accustomedthrong that usually awaited near the post-office the arrival of theinfrequent stagecoach. But there, at the mouth of the canon, almostunder the edge of the deepening shadow from the purple-topped mountain,appeared the dusty top of the creeping vehicle that bore with it thefate of Heart's Desire. Dan Anderson was pale now, and he put his handto his shirt collar, as though it were too tight; but he sat gazingdown the valley.
"That old fool, Bill Godfrey, is showin' them our sign," said he, inexasperation. "That's a nice thing, ain't it, for Eastern Capital, ora woman, to see the first thing?"
It was Charlie Lee, a landscape artist of Heart's Desire, whosubsequently turned his studio into a shop for sign-painting, who hadprepared the grim blazonry on the canon wall to which Dan Anderson hadmade reference. "Prepare to meet thy God!" was the sign that CharlieLee had painted there. It was the last thing he did on his way out oftown. That was the day after certain outlaws had killed a leadingcitizen. Charlie's emotions, of necessity, turned to paint forexpression; and there had never been any other funeral sermon. Theinhabitants had always left the sign standing there. But at this timeit seemed not wholly suitable, in the opinion of Dan Anderson.
"They ain't goin' to understand that," said he. "They can't think theway we do. Oh, why didn't that old fool Godfrey call their attentionthe other way? Oh, that'll set fine, won't it, with a man comin' tobuy a coal mine, and a girl with a pot of white vaseline on her faceand a consumin' vision of tarantulas in her soul! This'll be anothercase of New Jersey Gold Mill. Old Mr. Eastern Capital, why, he'll runout at the same door wherein he went; that's what he'll do. And, oh,doctors and saints, look at that, now!" Bill Godfrey was leaning outof the coach-box and pointing with his whip. "He's showin' them thetown now," said Dan Anderson. "Why--I hadn't thought before but whatthis place was all right."
I looked anxiously about, sharing his consternation. It had been ourworld for these years, a world set apart, distant and unknown; but ithad been satisfactory until now. Never before that moment had thescattering little one-story cabins of log and adobe seemed so small andinsignificant, so unfit for human occupancy. We were suddenly ashamed.
Dan Anderson, awaiting his fate, did not fly, but sat gravely on thelog in front of Uncle Jim's hotel, and waited for the creaking, stage,white with far-gathered dust, to climb the last pitch of the road upfrom the arroyo and come on with the shambling trot of a pair of tiredmules for the final nourish at the end of the long, dry trail.
He waited, and as the stagecoach, stopped, arose and walked steadilyforward. Another man might have smiled and stammered and nervouslyhave offered assistance to the newcomers; but Dan Anderson was masterof his faculties.
The curtains still concealed the tenant of the farther side of the rearseat, when there appeared the passenger nearest to our side of thecoach,--a citizen of the eminently respectable sort, forty inches ingirth, and of gray chin whiskers and mustache. He was well shod andwell clad; so much could be seen as he climbed down between the wheelsand stood stamping his feet to shake the travel cramp out of his legs.He looked thirsty and unhappy and bored. A flush of recognitioncrossed his face when
he saw the tall figure approaching him.
"Well, Andersen," Mr. Ellsworth said, extending a hand, "how are you?Got here at last--awful drive. Where do we stop? You know mydaughter, of course."
What treachery to Heart's Desire was here! Dan Anderson, a man who hadcome to stay, shaking hands on terms of old acquaintanceship,apparently, with Eastern Capital itself; and not content with that,advancing easily and courteously, hat in hand, to greet the daughter ofEastern Capital as though it were but yesterday that last they met.Moreover, and bitterest of all for a loyal man of Heart's Desire, wasthere not a glance, a word between them? Did Dan Anderson whisper aword and did she flush faint and rosy? or was it a touch of the light?Certain it was he reached up his hand to take hers, shaking it not toolong nor too fervently.
"I do remember Miss Ellsworth very well, of course, Mr. Ellsworth,"said he. "We are all very glad to see you."
"And we're very glad to _see_ you!" echoed the girl. "Oh! the dust,the dust!" She spoke in a full, sweet voice, excellent even foroutlanders to hear. If there were agitation in her tones, agitation inDan Andersen's heart, none might know it. This meeting, five years andtwo thousand miles from a parting, seemed the most natural and ordinarything in all the world. Mr. Ellsworth was of the belief that hehimself had planned it so far as himself and Dan Anderson wereconcerned.
"My daughter was on her way out to California, you see," Ellsworthbegan again; "down at El Paso she took a sudden freak for coming uphere to see about the climate--lots of folks go West nowadays, youknow, even in the spring. I'll warrant she's sick of the trip by now.A good climate has to have dust to season it. One of the mules wentlame--thought we would never get here. And now tell me, where'll shestop?" The personification of Eastern Capital looked about himdubiously at the only hotel of Heart's Desire, before which the coachhad pulled up as a matter of course. "Any women folks in town,anywhere?" he inquired, bringing his roving eye to rest upon DanAndersen's impassive face.
"I was upon the point of saying, Mr. Ellsworth," replied DanAnderson--and vaguely one felt that his diction was once more that ofPrinceton--"that my friend here, a prominent member of the bar, will gowith Miss Ellsworth to the house of a nice little woman, wife of--er--acow gentleman of our acquaintance. That will be best for her. I'lltry to take care of you myself, sir, if you like, while the LearnedCounsel goes with Miss Ellsworth."
There were introductions and further small talk, and presently LearnedCounsel found himself climbing up to the seat beside Eve; beside theTemptress who, he made no manner of doubt, had come to put an end toParadise.
But ah! she was Eve enough for any Eden--a tall girl, rounded, firmformed, with a mass of good brown hair, and a frank gray eye, and aregular and smooth forehead. Her garb was a cool, gray serge, and, amiracle here in this desert, it was touched here and there withimmaculate white, how, after that cruel ninety miles, none but a womanmight tell. A cool, gray veil was rolled about her hatbrim. Herhands, shapely and good, were gloved in gray. Her foot, trim and wellshaped,--for even a desolate pariah might note so much,--was shod in noultra fashion, but in good feminine gear with high and girlish heels,all unsuited to gravel and slide-rock, yet exceeding good, as it seemedat that time. The girl raised her eyes, smiling frankly. There was nocold cream traceable. The first thought of Learned Counsel was thather complexion would brown nicely under sunburn; his second thought wasthat he had on overalls,--a fact which had escaped him for more thanfour years.
If Eve, new come within Heart's Desire, felt any surprise, or if sheeven experienced any pique at the calm deportment of Dan Anderson, shemasked it all and put all at ease with a few words spoken in thatmanner of voice which is an excellent thing in woman. In a sort ofdream the coach trundled on up the street, to pause for half an instantin front of the commercial emporium of Whiteman the Jew. Whiteman cameout with his hat above his head, and said, "Velgome."
The girl looked backward down the street as they turned to cross the_arroyo_ beyond which stood the house of the Kansas family, where Curlylived. The off mule limped. "Poor little fellow," she said; "I wantedthem to stop. They have no pity--"
"No," said Learned Counsel to her, "there is no such thing as pity inall the world." She fell silent at this, and looked back once more,unconsciously, down the street, as one who would gladly pity, or bepitied. But soon the coach was at Curly's house, and there came out tomeet it, already forewarned of her guest, the Littlest Girl, wiping herhands on her apron, which means Welcome on the frontier.
The Littlest Girl, uncertain and overawed by her visitor, came forwardand took a first look. Then she suddenly held out her arms; andConstance Ellsworth, from the East, lonely, perhaps grieved, walkedstraight into the outstretched arms and straight into the heart of theLittlest Girl from Kansas.
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