The Angel of the Gila: A Tale of Arizona

by Cora Marsland

  CHAPTER II

  THE DAWN OF A NEW DAY

  For many days, public attention had been centered upon Esther Bright,the new teacher in Gila. Her grasp of the conditions of the school,her power to cope with the lawless element there, and her absolutemastery of the situation had now become matters of local history. Heradvent in Gila had been a nine days' wonder to the Gilaites; now, herpresence there had come to be regarded as a matter of course.

  Every new feature introduced into the school life, every newacquaintance made, deepened her hold upon the better life of thecommunity. Moreover, her vital interest in the people awakened in thema responsive interest in her.

  Fearlessly she tramped the foothills and canyons, returning laden withflowers and geological specimens. Learning her interest in thesethings, many people of the camp began to contribute to hercollections.

  Here in the Rockies, Nature pours out her treasures with lavish hand.White men had long dwelt in the midst of her marvelous wealth ofscenic beauty, amazingly ignorant of any values there save that whichhad a purchasing power and could be counted in dollars and cents.

  The mountains were ministering to the soul life of Esther Bright. Thestrength of the hills became hers. Nature's pages of history lay openbefore her; but more interesting to her than cell or crystal, or treeor flower, or the shining company of the stars, were the human beingsshe found fettered by ignorance and sin. The human element madedemands upon her mind and heart. Here was something for her to do. Ifthey had been a colony of blind folk or cripples, their conditioncould not have appealed more strongly to her sympathy. Profanity,gambling, drunkenness and immorality were about her everywhere. Thevices of the adults had long been imitated as play by the children. Soone of Esther Bright's first innovations in school work was toorganize play and teach games, and be in the midst of children atplay. She was philosopher enough to realize that evil habits of yearscould not be uprooted at once; but she did such heroic weeding thatthe playground soon became comparatively decent. How to save thechildren, and how to help the older people of the community wereabsorbing questions to her. She was a resourceful woman, and began atonce to plan wisely, and methodically carried out her plans. In herconferences with Mr. Clayton, her school trustee, she repeatedlyexpressed her conviction that the greatest work before them was tobring this great human need into vital relation with God. So it cameabout very naturally that a movement to organize a Bible school beganin Gila.

  Into every home, far and near, went Esther Bright, always sympathetic,earnest and enthusiastic. Her enthusiasm proved contagious. There hadbeen days of this house to house visitation, and now the day of theorganization of the Bible school was at hand.

  In the morning, Esther went to the schoolhouse to see that all was inreadiness. She paused, as she so often did, to wonder at the glory ofthe scene. The schoolhouse itself was a part of the picture. It wasbuilt of huge blocks of reddish brown adobe, crumbled at the corners.The red tile roof added a picturesque bit of color to the landscape.Just above the roof, at the right, rose an ample chimney. At the left,and a little back of the schoolhouse, towered two giant cactuses. Tothe north, stretched great barren foothills, like vast sand dunes bythe sea, the dreariness of their gray-white, or reddish soil relievedonly by occasional bunches of gray-green sage, mesquite bushes, cactiand the Spanish dagger, with its sword-like foliage, and tall spikesof seed-pods.

  Beyond the foothills, miles away, though seeming near, towered rugged,cathedral-like masses of snow-capped mountains. The shadows flittedover the earth, now darkening the mountain country, now leaving floodsof light.

  All along the valley of the Gila River, stretched great fields ofgreen alfalfa. Here and there, above the green, towered featherypampas plumes.

  The river, near the schoolhouse, made a bend northward. Along itsbanks were cottonwood trees, aspen, and sycamore, covered with greenmistletoe, and tangles of vines. No wonder Esther paused to drink inthe beauty. It was a veritable garden of the gods.

  At last she entered the schoolhouse. She carried with her Bibles, hymnbooks, and lesson leaves, all contributions from her grandfather.Already, the room was decorated with mountain asters of brilliantcolors. She looked around with apparent satisfaction, for the room hadbeen made beautiful with the flowers. She passed out, locked the door,and returned to the Clayton home.

  In the saloons, all that morning, the subject of gossip had been theBible school. John Harding and Kenneth Hastings, occasionallysauntering in, gathered that serious trouble was brewing for the youngteacher.

  The hour for the meeting drew near. As Esther approached theschoolhouse, she found perhaps forty people, men, women and children,grouped near the door. Some of the children ran to meet her, Wathemah,the little Indian, outrunning all of them. He trudged along proudly byhis teacher's side.

  Esther Bright heard groans and hisses. As she looked at the facesbefore her, two stood out with peculiar distinctness,--one, a proud,high-bred face; the other, a handsome, though dissipated one.

  There were more hisses and then muttered insults. There was nomistaking the sounds or meaning. The Indian child sprang forward,transformed into a fury. He shook his little fist at the men, as heshouted, "Ye Wathemah teacher hurt, Wathemah kill ye blankety blankeddevils."

  A coarse laugh arose from several men.

  "What're yer givin' us, kid?" said one man, staggering forward.

  "Wathemah show ye, ye blankety blanked devil," shrieked he again.

  Wild with rage, the child rushed forward, uttering oaths that made histeacher shudder. She too stepped rapidly forward, and clasped her armsabout him. He fought desperately for release, but she held him,speaking to him in low, firm tones, apparently trying to quiet him. Atlast, he burst into tears of anger.

  For a moment, the mutterings and hisses ceased, but they burst forthagain with greater strength. The child sprang from his teacher, leapedlike a squirrel to the back of one of the ruffians, climbed to hisshoulder, and dealt lightning blows upon his eyes and nose and mouth.The man grasped him and hurled him with terrific force to the ground.The little fellow lay in a helpless heap where he had fallen. Estherrushed to the child and bent over him. All the brute seemed roused inthe drunken man. He lunged toward her with menacing fists, and atorrent of oaths.

  "Blank yer!" he said, "Yer needn't interfere with me. Blank y'r hide.Yer'll git out o' Gila ter-morrer, blank yer!"

  But he did not observe the three stern faces at the right and left ofEsther Bright and the prostrate child. Three men with guns drawnprotected them.

  The men who had come to insult and annoy knew well that if theyoffered further violence to the young teacher and the unconsciouschild, they would have to reckon with John Clayton, Kenneth Hastingsand John Harding. Wordless messages were telegraphed from eye to eye,and one by one the ruffians disappeared.

  Esther still knelt by Wathemah. He had been stunned by the fall. Waterrevived him; and after a time, he was able to walk into theschoolhouse.

  Oh, little child of the Open, so many years misunderstood, howgenerously you respond with love to a little human kindness! Howbitterly you resent a wrong!

  Afterwards, in describing what Miss Bright did during this tryingordeal, a Scotch miner said:

  "The lass's smile fair warmed the heart. It was na muckle, but whenshe comforted the Indian bairn I could na be her enemy."

  As Esther entered the door, she saw two middle-aged Scotch women clasphands and exchange words of greeting. She did not dream then, nor didshe know until months after, how each of these longed for her oldhome in Scotland; nor did she know, at that time, how the heart ofeach one of them had warmed towards her.

  Several women and children and a few men followed the teacher into theschoolroom. All looked around curiously.

  Esther looked into the faces before her, some dull, others hard; someworn by toil and exposure; others disfigured by dissipation. They wereto her, above everything else, human beings to be helped; andministration to their needs became of supreme interest to her.<
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  There were several Scotch people in the audience. As the books andlesson leaves were passed, Esther gave out a hymn the children knew,and which she fancied might be familiar to the Scotch peoplepresent,--"My Ain Countrie."

  She lifted her guitar, played a few opening chords, and sang,

  "I am far frae my hame, an' I'm weary aftenwhiles For the longed-for hame-bringin', an' my Faither's welcome smiles; An' I'll ne'er be fu' content, until mine een do see The gowden gates o' Heaven, an' my ain countrie."

  At first a few children sang with her, but finding their elders didnot sing, they, too, stopped to listen.

  The two Scotch women, who sat side by side, listened intently. Onereached out and clasped the hand of the other; and then, over thecheeks furrowed by toil, privation and heart-hunger, tears found theirunaccustomed way.

  The singer sang to the close of the stanza, then urged all to singwith her. A sturdy Scotchman, after clearing his throat, spoke up:

  "Please, Miss, an' will ye sing it all through y'rsel? It reminds meo' hame."

  Applause followed. The singer smiled, then lifting her guitar, sang ina musical voice, the remaining stanzas.

  When she prayed, the room grew still. The low, tender voice wasspeaking as to a loving, compassionate Father. One miner lifted hishead to see the Being she addressed, and whose presence seemed to fillthe room. All he saw was the shining face of the teacher. Monthslater, he said confidentially to a companion that he would acknowledgethat though he had never believed in "such rot as a God an' all themthings," yet when the teacher prayed that day, he somehow felt thatthere was a God, and that he was right there in that room. And headded:

  "I felt mighty queer. I reckon I wasn't quite ready ter have Him lookme through an' through."

  From similar testimony given by others at various times, it is clearthat many that day heard themselves prayed for for the first time intheir lives. And they did not resent it.

  The prayer ended. A hush followed. Then the lesson of the day wastaught, and the school was organized. At the close, the teacher askedall who wished to help in the Bible school to remain a few moments.

  Many came to express their good will. One Scotch woman said, "I dinnawonder the bairns love ye. Yir talk the day was as gude as the sermonsi' the Free Kirk at hame."

  Then another Scotch woman took both of Esther Bright's hands in herown, and assured her it was a long day since she had listened to theWord.

  "But," she added, "whatever Jane Carmichael can dae tae help ye,Lassie, she'll dae wi' a' her heart."

  The first of the two stepped forward, saying apologetically, "I forgottae say as I am Mistress Burns, mither o' Marget an' Jamesie."

  "And I," added the other, "am the mither o' Donald."

  Mr. Clayton, elected superintendent at the organization of the Bibleschool, now joined the group about the teacher. At last the workersonly remained, and after a brief business meeting, they went theirseveral ways. Evidently they were thinking new thoughts.

  Mrs. Burns overtook Mrs. Carmichael and remarked to her, "I dinna kenwhy the Almighty came sae near my heart the day, for I hae wandered.God be thankit, that He has sent the lassie amang us."

  "Aye," responded Mrs. Carmichael, "let us be thankfu', an' come backhame tae God."

  Esther Bright was the last to leave the schoolhouse. As she strolledalong slowly, deep in thought over the events of the day, she wasarrested by the magnificence of the sunset. She stopped and stoodlooking into the crystal clearness of the sky, so deep, soillimitable. Across the heavens, which were suddenly aflame withcrimson and gold, floated delicate, fleecy clouds. Soon, all thecolors of the rainbow were caught and softened by these swift-wingedmessengers of the sky. Away on the mountains, the snow glowed as if onfire. Slowly the colors faded. Still she stood, with face uplifted.Then she turned, her face shining, as though she had stood in the verypresence of God.

  Suddenly, in her path, stepped the little Indian, his arms full ofgoldenrod. He waited for her, saying as he offered the flowers:

  "_Flowers_, me teacher."

  She stooped, drew him to her, and kissed his dirty face, saying as shedid so, "Flowers? How lovely!"

  He clasped her hand, and they walked on together.

  The life story of the little Indian had deeply touched her. It was nowthree years since he had been found, a baby of three, up in LineCanyon. That was just after one of the Apache raids. It was believedthat he was the child of Geronimo. When the babe was discovered by thewhite men who pursued the Indians, he was blinking in the sun. Acowboy, one Jack Harding, had insisted upon taking the child back tothe camp with them. Then the boy had found a sort of home in Keith'ssaloon, where he had since lived. There he had been teased and petted,and cuffed and beaten, and cursed by turns, and being a child ofunusually bright mind, and the constant companion of rough men, he hadlearned every form of evil a child can possibly know. His naturallywinsome nature had been changed by teasing and abuse until he seemedto deserve the sobriquet they gave him,--"little savage." Now at theage of perhaps six years, he had been sent to the Gila school; andthere Esther Bright found him. The teacher was at once attracted tothe child.

  Many years after, when Wathemah had become a distinguished man, hewould tell how his life began when a lovely New England girl, aremarkable teacher, found him in that little school in Gila. He neverfailed to add that all that he was or might become, he owed entirelyto her.

  The Indian child's devotion to the teacher began that first day atschool, and was so marked it drew upon him persecution from the otherchildren. Never could they make him ashamed. When the teacher waspresent, he ignored their comments and glances, and carried himself asproudly as a prince of the realm; but when she was absent, many a boy,often a boy larger than himself, staggered under his furious attacks.The child had splendid physical courage. Take him for all in all, hewas no easy problem to solve. The teacher studied him, listened tohim, reasoned with him, loved him; and from the first, he seemed toknow intuitively that she was to be trusted and obeyed.

  On this day, he was especially happy as he trudged along, his hand inthat of his Beloved.

  "Did you see how beautiful the sunset is, Wathemah?" asked theteacher, looking down at the picturesque urchin by her side. He gave alittle grunt, and looked into the sky.

  "Flowers in sky," he said, his face full of delight. "God canyon putflowers, he Wathemah love?"

  "Yes, dear. God put flowers in the canyon because he loves you."

  They stopped, and both looked up into the sky. Then, after a moment,she continued:

  "You are like the flowers of the canyon, Wathemah. God put you herefor me to find and love."

  "Love Wathemah?"

  "Yes."

  Then she stooped and gathered him into her arms. He nestled to her.

  "You be Wathemah's mother?" he questioned.

  She put her cheek against the little dirty one. The child felt tears.As he patted her cheek with his dirty hand, he repeated anxiously:

  "Me teacher be Wathemah mother?"

  "Yes," she answered, as though making a sacred covenant, "I,Wathemah's teacher, promise to be Wathemah's mother, so help me God."

  The child was coming into his birthright, the birthright of everychild born into the world,--a mother's love. Who shall measure itspower in the development of a child's life?

  They had reached the Clayton home. Wathemah turned reluctantly,lingering and drawing figures in the road with his bare feet, apicture one would long remember.

  He was a slender child, full of sinuous grace. His large, lustrousdark eyes, as well as his features, showed a strain of Spanish blood.He was dressed in cowboy fashion, but with more color than one sees inthe cowboy costume. His trousers were of brown corduroy, slightlyragged. He wore a blue and white striped blouse, almost new. Aroundhis neck, tied jauntily in front, was a red silk handkerchief, a giftfrom a cowboy. He smoothed it caressingly, as though he delighted init. His straight, glossy black hair, except where cut short
over theforehead, fell to his shoulders. Large loop-like ear-rings dangledfrom his ears; but the crowning feature of his costume, and hisespecial pride, was a new sombrero hat, trimmed with a scarlet ribbonand a white quill. He suddenly looked at his teacher, his facelighting with a radiant smile, and said:

  "Mother, _me_ mother."

  "Tell me, Wathemah," she said, "what you learned to-day in the Bibleschool."

  He turned and said softly:

  "Jesus love."

  Then the little child of the Open walked back to the camp, repeatingsoftly to himself:

  "Jesus love! Mother love!"