CHAPTER LXI
Clear Vision on the Mountain
Kind friends and hearty greetings awaited the Hartigans at the Fort.Colonel Waller, Mrs. Waller, and the staff received them as long-lostson and daughter; and with the least delay by decency allowed they wentto the stable to see Blazing Star, still Fort Ryan's pride. The whinniedwelcome and the soft-lipped fumbling after sugar were the outward tokensof his gladness at the meeting.
"He's the same as ever, Jim," said the Colonel, "but we didn't race lastsummer. Red Cloud came as usual, but asked for a handicap of six hundredyards, which meant that they had not got a speeder they could trust. Wehad trouble, too, with the Indian Bureau over the whole thing, so theaffair was called off. As far as we know now, Blazing Star is the racerof the Plains, with Red Rover making a good second. He's in his primeyet; he could still walk a stringer on a black night, and while you arehere at the Fort he's yours as much as you want to use him."
Jim's cup was filled to overflowing.
Their midday meal over, a ride was in order; first around the Fort amongthe men--Captain Wayne, Osier Mike, Scout Al Rennie--then out over thesagebrush flat. "Here's the old battle ground of the horses; here'swhere you chased the coyote, and here's where Blazing Star took you overthe single stringer bridge on that black night." It was less than a yearhe had been away, and yet Jim felt like one who was coming back to thescenes of his boyhood, long gone by. His real boyhood in far-away Linkswas of another world. Fightin' Bill Kenna, Whiskey Mason, the Rev.Obadiah Champ, the stable and the sawmills, his mother--they weredreams; even Chicago was less real than this; and he rode like aschoolboy and yelled whenever a jack rabbit jumped ahead of his horseand jerked its white tail in quick zigzags, exactly as its kind had donein the days when he lived in the saddle.
After dinner, by the log fire in the Colonel's dining room, Mrs. Wallerraised the question of their plans. "Now, children" (she loved to bematernal), "what do you want to do to-morrow?"
There was a time when Belle would have spoken first, but there had beena subtle, yet very real, change in their relationship. Jim was a childthree years before, dependent almost entirely on her; now she was lesshis leader than she had been. She waited.
Gazing at the fire, his long legs straight out and crossed at theankles, his hands clasped behind his head, he lounged luxuriously in agreat arm chair. Without turning his gaze from the burning logs hebegan:
"If I could do exactly what I wished----"
"Which you may," interjected Mrs. Waller.
"I'd saddle Blazing Star and Red Rover at seven o'clock in the morningand ride with Belle and not come back till noon."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Mrs. Waller and the Colonel. "You children! You twolittle, little ones! Well, we must remember that Belle is still a brideand will be for another month, so we'll bid you Godspeed on the newwedding trip and have your breakfast ready at half past six."
Early hours are the rule in a fort at the front, so the young folk werenot alone at breakfast. And when they rode away on their two splendidhorses, many eyes followed with delight the noble beauty of the pair--sofitly mounted, so gladly young and strong.
"Now, where, Jim?" said Belle, as they left the gate and thundered overthe bridge at a mettlesome lope. And as she asked, she remembered thatthat was the very question he used always to put to her.
"Belle" (he reined in Blazing Star), "I have been waiting till it seemedjust right--waiting for the very time, so we could stand again at ourshrine. Sometimes I think I know my way and the trail I ought to seek,and sometimes I am filled with doubt; but I know I shall have the clearvision if we stand again as we used to stand, above our world, besidethe Spirit Rock, on the high peak of our mountain."
And then, in the soft sign language of the rein let loose, the ribsknee-nudged, they bade their horses go. Side by side they rode and swunglike newly mated honkers in the spring--like two centaurs, feeling inthemselves the power, the blood rush of their every bound. In less thanhalf an hour they passed the little town and were at the foot of CedarMountain. The horses would have gone up at speed, but the riders heldthem in, and the winding trail was slowly followed up.
The mountain jays flew round the pines before them as they climbed; aneagle swung in circles, watching keenly; while, close at hand, thesquirrels dropped their cones to spring behind the trunks and chatterchallenge.
At the half-way ledge they halted for a breathing. Belle looked keenly,gently into Jim's eyes. She was not sure what she saw. She wondered whathis thoughts were. The brightness of the morning, the joy of riding andbeing, the fullness of freedom--these were in glowing reflex on hisface, but she had seen these before; yet never before had she seen hisface so tense and radiant. Only once, perhaps, that time when he camehome walking in the storm.
He smiled back at her, but said nothing. They rode again and in tenminutes came to the end of the horse trail. He leaped from the saddle,lifted her down, and tied the horses. With his strong hand under herarm, he made it easy for her to climb the last steep path. A hundredfeet above, they reached the top, above the final trees, above thenearer peaks, above all other things about them except the tall, graySpirit Rock. Below spread a great golden world; behind them a world ofgreen. The little wooden town seemed at the mountain's foot--Fort Ryanalmost in shouting hail, though it was six miles off; beyond, was theopen sea of sage, with heaving hills for billows and greasewood streaksfor foam.
Jim gazed in utter silence so long that she looked a little shyly athim. His face was radiant, his eye was glistening, but he spoke nowords. The seat they had used a year before was there and he gently drewher toward it. Seated there as of old, he put his arm about her and heldher to him. She whispered, "Make a fire." She had indeed interpreted histhought. He rose, lighted a little fire on the altar at the foot of theSpirit Rock, and the smoke rose up straight in the still air. Itascended from the earth mystery of the fire to be lost in the mystery ofthe above. How truly has it been the symbol of prayer since first mankindled fire and prayed.
Jim took his Bible from his pocket and read from the metrical PsalmCXXI:
I to the hills will lift mine eyes, From whence doth come mine aid; My safety cometh from the Lord Who heaven and earth hath made.
"They always went up into the hills to pray, Belle, didn't they? Thefathers of the faith never went down into the valley when they soughtGod's guidance. I don't know why, but I know that I don't feel the same,away down there on the plains as I do up here. I see things moreclearly, I have more belief in Him and know He is near me.
"The clouds have been gathering in my mind pretty thick and dark; yes,darker the last half year, Belle. I began to doubt myself as I neverdid. Even when we were winning in our Chicago fight, I wondered whetherI was doing right. I couldn't see clearly, Belle, and then my doubt grewstronger and even you could not understand; there was something withinthat told me to go back to Cedar Mountain. Ever since we got here I havebeen waiting for the moment when I could come to the mountain. Fromhere, a mile above the sea, I know that I shall see the way of wisdom. Iwonder if you know what that Rock means to me with that little thread ofsmoke going up?
"Belle, men called Bill Kenna a ruffian and a brute. I guess he was,too, but he had a brave, warm heart. His whole religion was to feed thehungry and honour his word as a man. That was about all he taught me;and he loved my mother--that's enough; it bit in deep. When I gave myword as a man on that wild night four years ago when I heard the call, Ivowed that I would, from that time on, devote my strength to tellingothers what I had found and try to make them find it, too. That was myvow, Belle; I've tried to keep it. I gave up things out here becausethey seemed to come between. I may be doing right in the city slum work,but it is not what I set out to do; I am not keeping to the trail."
Poor Belle! The periods of vague unrest she had noted; that time offervent prayer; the reasons she had urged upon him for returning tocollege, and the crisis in which she had forced him to give it up--allnow came back to her in quick succ
ession. She remembered the weaknessthat had so nearly ended all and how he had overmastered it--thatcraving for drink, so strong from inheritance and from the evil habitsof his earliest manhood. Amid daily temptations of the Chicago life, ithad not seemed to touch him even as temptation. The horses that he lovedhe had given up for principle. The surface plasticity he still showedwas merely the velvet that concealed the rod of steel and why he seemedso weak she knew now, was that he was so young, so very immature, a manin stature, a little happy child at heart. And the sting of sudden ironhurt her soul.
To say that she was shamed by remorse would not be fair; but the sum ofher feelings was that he had given up all for her; she owed himsomething to atone.
There is clear vision from the hilltop--the far-sight is in the highplace. The prophets have ever gone up into the high places for theirmessage. The uplift of Cedar Mountain was on his spirit and on hers. Shespoke softly, gravely, and slowly: "Jim, God surely brought me into yourlife for a purpose and, if I am no help, then I have failed. As surelyas He sent us to Chicago to fight that fight and overcome the thingsabout as well as the things inside, He also sent us here to-day to showour inmost souls, to get light on ourselves, to learn the way we mustgo. I have learned, for my spirit's eyes are clearer now and here thanthey ever were in my life before, and some things have come to me sovividly that I take them as commands from Him who set this rock up hereand brought us in this frame of mind to see it. Jim, you must go back tocollege; you must finish your course; you must carry out your vow andconsecrate yourself to spreading the gospel of His love."
Jim stared with glowing eyes as Belle went on: "I've thought it all out,Jim. I know it is mine to open the way now, as once I closed it."
He clutched her in his arms and shook with a sudden storm of longpent-up feeling, now bursting all restraint. He had no words; he framedno speech; he was overwhelmed.
Why put it into words? They understood each other now. He had gone tothe city because that seemed the open way. He had taken up the purelysecular work of the club while his inmost soul cried out: "This is notwhat you vowed; this is not the way to which you consecrated all yourlife." It was for her sake he had turned aside, and now that sheannounced the way of return, they came together as they never had; nowwas she truly his in spirit as in law.
It was long before they spoke, and their words now were of other things.The noon train was sounding at the bend; from the ledge below themBlazing Star sent up a querulous whinny. Jim was calm again and Bellewas gently smiling, though her eyes still brimmed.
"We shall be late for the noon meal," he said, rising. For a moment theystood before the Spirit Rock, and he said in words of the old, old Book:
"He carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain." "It is good for us to be here." "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help."
They walked hand in hand and silently down the crooked trail to thehorses. He lifted her to the saddle and kissed her hand only; but theireyes met in a burning look and their souls met face to face. Then theyturned and rode the downward trail, and on the level plain gave freerein to the horses so that they went like hounds unleashed and skimmedthe plain and leaped the gulch nor stayed till they reached the Fort andthe friendly door where the soldier grooms were waiting.
* * * * *
They rode again the next day, circling the plain where the Indian racehad been run and pointing out familiar objects. Jim led the way to thecottonwoods near where Higginbotham's "Insurance Office" had stood.
He stopped at the very spot and said: "Little girl, do you know whathappened here about a year ago?"
"What?" she answered, as though in doubt.
"Guess."
"I can't," she replied. She would not say it. If he wanted it said, hemust say it himself.
"It was here that I met 'Two Strikes.' Oh, what a blind fool I havebeen! If God had only given me a little less body and a little morebrain! But it's all right. He knows best. He gave me you and I amthankful for that."
"We understand each other better now, Jim, don't we? I know you wereonly a child when I first saw you. You are a boy yet, but you will soonbe a man. Listen, Jim; I have not ceased to think it over since we stoodby the Spirit Rock. Do you remember what I said--you must go back tocollege? I must open the way. And I will, Jim; I have it all plannedout. You must go back, not to Coulter, there are better colleges. Theydo not all bar married men. There is one in Chicago; Chicago is ourgateway still. The Western Theological College is there. They willaccept your year at Coulter for entrance and one year's work. I think Ican get Mr. Hopkins to let me keep on with the Mountain House. My salaryand what we have saved will make us comfortable. I can help in all yourstudies. In two years you will be through; then the Methodist Church, orany other, will be glad to have you and the way will be open wide. Iwill not fail you. You shall not fail to keep your word. And when weknow, as we cannot know now, you will see that God was guiding me. MaybeHe took you from Coulter because you were too young; surely He plannedfor us and has led us at every turn in the trail. It seems crooked now,but every rider in the hills knows that the crooks in the trail up CedarMountain were made to elude some precipice or to win some height nototherwise attainable; no other trail could end at the Spirit Rock, thehighest point, the calm and blessed outlook, the top of Cedar Mountain."
"Now, Belle, I understand. My heart told me to wait, then to go up themountain and find the thing I needed. I knew you would not fail; I knewmy mountain meant vision for you and me."
The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open Country Page 62