Cavanagh, Forest Ranger: A Romance of the Mountain West

by Hamlin Garland

  V

  TWO ON THE VERANDA

  REDFIELD met his young guest in dinner-coat, looking extremely urban, andpresented his "friend and neighbor, Mr. Enderby."

  Enderby turned out to be the owner of the voice with the English accentwhich Lee Virginia had heard in the hall, but he was very nice, and amoment later Mrs. Redfield entered with Mrs. Enderby, a large lady with asmiling face. Then a voice she knew spoke from behind her: "I don't need apresentation. Miss Wetherford and I have already met."

  She turned to meet Ross Cavanagh, the young ranger.

  "How did you get here?" she asked, in wonder.

  "I rode across the hills; it's not far."

  He too was in evening dress, and as she stared at him in surprise helaughingly protested. "Please don't scrutinize this coat too closely. It'sthe only one I've owned for ten years, and this is the only house in whichI'd _dare_ to wear it."

  Bridges (who turned out to be a State senator) was a farmer-like elderlyman wearing a badly fitting serge suit. He was markedly Western; so washis wife, who looked rather uneasy and hot.

  It was all delightfully exciting to Lee Virginia, and to be taken in todinner by the transfigured ranger completed her appreciation of thecharming home and its refined hostess.

  Redfield shone as host, presenting an admirable mixture of clubman andWestern rancher. His natural sense of humor, sharpened by twenty years ofplains life, was Western. His manner, his habits of dress, of dining, oftaking wine, were uncorruptedly Manhattan. Enderby, large, high-colored,was naturally a bit of what we know as the "haw-haw type" of Englishman--athoroughly good fellow, kindly, tolerant, brave, and generous, who couldnot possibly change his spots. He had failed utterly to acquire theAmerican idiom, and his attempts at cowboy slang were oftenamusing--especially to Redfield, who prided himself on being quiteundistinguishable in a cow-camp.

  Virginia and Ross, being the only young folk at the table, were seatedtogether, and Enderby remarked privately: "Ross, you're in luck."

  "I know I am," he replied, heartily.

  He was (as Redfield had said) highly susceptible, made so by his solitarylife in the mountains, and to be seated close beside this maid of thevalley stirred his blood to the danger-point. It was only by an effort ofthe will that he kept in touch with Redfield's remarks.

  "Enderby never can grow accustomed to his democratic neighbors," Redfieldwas saying. "He's been here six years, and yet when one of his cowboyfriends tells him to 'go to hell' he's surprised and a bit offended."

  "Oh, it isn't that," explained Mrs. Enderby; "it's to have your maids say'All right' when you ask them to remove the soup. It's a bit shocking alsoto have your cook or housemaid going about the house singing some wretchedditty. What was that one, Charley, that Irma Maud sang till we were nearlywild (Irma Maud was my chambermaid). What was it? Something about 'TixeyAnn.'"

  "Oh, I know it perfectly!" exclaimed Enderby. "'If you want to make aniggah feel good--'"

  "No, no; that's another one."

  Redfield interposed. "You wouldn't have them go about in sullen stealth,would you? Think how song lightens their drudgery."

  "Ah yes; but if it drives the family out-of-doors?"

  "It shouldn't. You should take it all as a part of the happy world ofdemocracy wherein even the maid-servant sings at her toil."

  "But our democratic neighbors are all the time coming to look round theplace. We've no privacy whatever. On Sunday afternoon they drive throughthe grounds in procession; you'd think our place a public park and we thekeepers."

  In all this banter Virginia was given the English viewpoint as to Westernmanners and conditions. She perceived that the Enderbys, notwithstandingtheir heavy-set prejudices, were persons of discernment and right feeling.It certainly was impertinent of the neighbors to ride through the groundsas if they were public, and Mrs. Enderby was justified in resenting it.

  Ross turned to her. "Enderby is the kind of Englishman who wants to adapthimself to new conditions, but can't."

  "You don't seem like an Englishman at all."

  "Well, I was caught young, and, besides, I'm really Irish--on my father'sside."

  "Oh, that's different!" she exclaimed, as though that somehow brought himnearer to her own people.

  "It is, isn't it?" he laughingly agreed. "But Enderby--I suppose hispedigree goes back to Cedric and his swineherds. You can't change thatkind."

  "I hadn't the least thought of seeing you here. How did you happen tocome?"

  "Redfield telephoned me at the mill, and I came at once. I haven't beenhere since May, and I just thought I'd take a half a day off. Luckily, myunderstudy was with me. I left him 'on the job.'"

  He did not tell her that she was the principal reason for this suddendescent upon Elk Lodge, and no one but Redfield knew the killing ride hehad taken in order to be in at the beginning of the dinner. The girl'sface and voice, especially her voice, had been with him night and day ashe went about his solitary duties. Her life problem had come to fill hismind to a disturbing degree, and he was eager to know more of her and ofher struggle against the vice and vulgarity of the Forks.

  "How is your mother?" he asked, a few minutes later.

  "Not at all well. Mr. Redfield is to take the doctor back with usto-morrow." The ecstasy died out of her face, and the flexible lipsdrooped with troubled musing. "I am afraid she suffers more than she willadmit."

  "She needs a rest and change. She should get away from her seat at thatcash-register, and return to the open air. A touch of camp-life would helpher. She sticks too close to her work."

  "I know she does, but she won't let me relieve her, even for an hour. Itisn't because she doesn't trust me; she says it's because she doesn't wantme sitting there--so--publicly. She doesn't oppose my housekeeping anymore--"

  "You certainly have made the old hotel into a place of miraculousneatness."

  She flushed with pleasure. "I have done something, but not as I'd like todo. I really think if mother wishes to sell she could do so now to muchbetter advantage."

  "I've no doubt of it. Really, I'm not being funny, Miss Wetherford, when Isay you've done something heroic. It's no easy thing to come into a placelike that and make it habitable. It shows immense courage andself-reliance on your part. It's precisely the kind of work this wholecountry needs."

  His praise, sincere and generous, repaid her for all she had gone through.It was a great pleasure to hear her small self praised for courage andself-reliance by one whose daily work was heroic. All things conspired tomake a conquest of her heart, for the ranger bore himself with grace, anddealt with his silver deftly. His face, seen from the side, was older andsterner than she had thought it, but it was very attractive in line.

  She said: "Mr. Redfield and I were talking of 'the war' to-day--I mean our'cattle-man's invasion'--and I learned that you were the sergeant who camefor the prisoners."

  He smiled. "Yes; I was serving in the regular army at that time."

  "You must have been very young?"

  "I was--a kid."

  "That was a brave thing to do."

  "Not at all. I was a soldier under orders of the commander of the post. Idared not disobey."

  She would not have it so. "But you knew that you were going into danger?"

  "To be honest about it, I did; but I relied on my blue coat to protectme."

  "It was a terrible time. I was only a child, but I can remember how wildthe men all seemed when you drove up and leaped out of the wagon. I didn'trealize that my father's life depended on your coming, but we all knew itwas brave of you."

  "I think I was born a soldier. What I like about my present job is itsdefiniteness. I have my written instructions, and there's no need to argueanything. I carry out my orders. But I beg pardon, I'm not going to talk'shop' to you. I want you to tell me about yourself. I hope you are not toreturn to the East, for if you do not I shall be able to see youoccasionally."

  Here Redfield appealed to the ranger. "Ross, you're all sorts of areactionary.
What do you say to this? Senator Bridges is opposed to allFederal interference with State forests and State game."

  The forester's eyes lit up. "But are they State forests and State game?What makes them so? They are lands which the whole people purchased andwhich the whole people defended."

  "Heah! heah!" cheered Enderby.

  Bridges bristled with anger, and went off into a long harangue on Statesrights and the dangers of centralization, to which Enderby replied: "Bosh!the whole trouble with your bally Government is its lack of cohesion. If Ihad my way, I'd wipe out the Senate and put a strong man like Roosevelt atthe head of the executive. You're such blooming asses over here; you don'tknow enough to keep a really big man in your presidential chair. Thisfussing about every four years to put in some oily corporation lawyer isbloody rot. Here's Roosevelt gets in the midst of a lot of the finest kindof reforms, y' know, and directly you go and turn him out! Then if you geta bad man, you've to wait four years till you can fetch him a whack. Whynot arrange it so you can pitch your President out the minute he goeswrong? I say your old rag of a Constitution is a ball-and-chain on yournational leg. England is immeasurably better off so far as that goes."

  Ross turned to Virginia, leaving the political discussion to go on overhis head. "I was back in the Old Island a couple of years ago, and you'veno idea how small it seemed to me. It surely is a 'right little, tightlittle island.' I couldn't help wondering whether the men in Parliamentwere as important as they seemed to think they were, and whether Englandis not really an empty shell of empire, a memory of what it once was. Icouldn't settle down there, someway. I was homesick for the mountains in amonth. But what scared me most was the pauper population of the oldplace--one in every thirty-seven must be helped. I came back to the Statesgladly. 'I guess I'm an American,' I said to my sisters."

  To Lee Virginia all this talk of "the curse of democracy" and "the decayof empire" was unexciting, but when Cavanagh told of the sheepmen'sadvance across the dead-line on Deer Creek, and of the threats of thecattle-owners, she was better able to follow the discussion. Bridges washeartily on the side of law and order, for he wished to boom the State(being a heavy owner in a town-site), but he objected to Redfield's ideasof "bottling up the resources of the State."

  "We're not," retorted Redfield; "we're merely defending them against thosewho would monopolize them. We believe in their fullest use, but we see noreason for giving away the resources when the country needs the revenue."

  Mrs. Redfield rose as soon as the coffee came on. "You gentlemen seem bentupon discussing matters of no interest to us," she said, "so we'll leaveyou to fight it out alone. I'm sure you'll all agree with Hugh in the end.Like General Grant, he's a very obstinate man."

  No sooner were they seated in the big living-room than Mrs. Enderby beganto relate comical stories of her household. Her cats had fits and ran upthe wall. Her dogs were forever getting quilled by reason of foolishattacks upon porcupines, or else they came home so reminiscent of skunksthat they all but smothered the cook. "Invariably they return fromencounters of this kind just as we are sitting at dinner," she explained."Furthermore, Enderby's ditches are habitually getting clogged, andoverflowing the lawn and filling the cellar, and he stands in terror ofhis cowboys. When I think of all these irruptions and distractions,England's order and routine seem heavenly; but Charley finds all thisamusing, more's the pity, and leaves me to set things in order. Mostludicrous of all, to me, is his habitual claim that the ranch is paying. Itell him there's an error in his bookkeeping somewhere, but he assures methat his receipts exceeded his expenditures last year--which is quite tooincredible. You've no idea how high wages are and how little we raise."

  "Oh yes, I have," laughed Mrs. Redfield, "and my cat had a fit too. Hughsays it's the high altitude. I tell him it's melancholia."

  Cavanagh showed himself. "I hear so much laughter I'm coming in, we're allso insufferably political out here. And, besides, I came to see theladies, and I can only stay a few minutes longer."

  "You're not going back to-night!" exclaimed his hostess.

  "I must be on my own precinct by daylight," he replied; "the Supervisorhas an eye on me."

  Mrs. Redfield explained to Lee Virginia. "He rode fifty miles over themountains--"

  "Thirty," corrected Ross. "But what does that matter when I'm in thecompany of such charming ladies?" he added, gallantly.

  "And now he's going to ride all the way back to-night!"

  "Think of that," gasped Mrs. Enderby, "and no moon!"

  "How can you find your way?" asked Mrs. Bridges, to whom this was amortally dangersome journey.

  "Oh, it's quite simple. If you don't bump against a tree or fall into thecreek you may be quite sure you're on the trail," laughed Ross.

  Mrs. Redfield knew the true reason for his coming, and was not at allpleased, "for with all Lee's personal charm," she said to her husband,"she is socially beneath Ross Cavanagh, even in a State where socialbarriers are few."

  "Come out on the veranda," suggested Cavanagh, "and I'll show you thehills I must climb."

  Lee accepted innocently; but as the young people left the room Mrs.Enderby looked at her hostess with significant glance. "There's the ladyRoss rode down to meet. Who is she?"

  "Her mother is that dreadful old creature that keeps the Wetherford Hotelin Roaring Fork."

  "No!" exclaimed Mrs. Enderby.

  "Yes; Lee Virginia is Lize Wetherford's daughter."

  "But the girl is charming."

  "I cannot understand it. Hugh came home a week or so ago full of herpraise--" And at this point her voice dropped lower and the other drewcloser.

  Outside, the young people stood in silence. There was no moon, and themountains rose darkly, a sheer wall at the end of the garden, their topscutting into the starry sky with a dull edge, over which a dim white conepeered.

  "That snow-peak is Wolftooth, and thirty miles from here, and at the headof my 'beat,'" said the ranger, after a pause, as they leaned against therailing and looked away to the south. "I go up that ridge which you seefaintly at the left of the main canon, and through that deep notch whichis above timber-line."

  The girl's eyes widened with awe of the big, silent, dark world heindicated. "Aren't you afraid to start out on such a trip alone--I mean,don't you dread it?"

  "I'll be sorry to start back, yes, but not because of the dark. I'veenjoyed my visit here so much it will be hard to say good-night."

  "It seems strange to me that you should prefer this wild country toEngland."

  "Do you like the East better than the West?"

  "In some ways; but then, you see, I was born out here."

  "So was I--I mean to say I was regenerated out here. The truth is I was agood deal of a scapegrace when I left England. I was always for huntingand horses, and naturally I came directly to the wild West country, andhere I've been ever since. I've had my turn at each phase ofit--cow-puncher, soldier, Rough-rider, and finally forest ranger. I reckonI've found my job at last."

  "Do you like it so much?"

  "At the present time I am perfectly contented. I'm associated now with acountry that will never yield to the plough--yes, I like my work. I lovethe forests and the streams. I wish I might show them to you. You don'tknow how beautiful they are. The most beautiful parks in the world arecommonplace to what I can show you. My only sorrow is to think of themgiven over to the sawmill. Perhaps you and your mother will come up sometime, and let me show you my lakes and streams. There are waters so lovelythey make the heart ache. Hugh is planning to come up soon; perhaps youand Mrs. Redfield will come with him."

  "I'd like it above everything," she responded, fervently. Then her voicechanged: "But all depends on my mother's health."

  It hurt him to hear her call Eliza Wetherford mother. He wanted to forgether origin for the moment. He was not in love with her--far from it! Butshe was so alluring, and the proprietress of the Wetherford House was notnice, and that made one doubt the daughter.

  She broke the silenc
e. "It seems dreadfully dark and mysterious up there."She indicated his path.

  "It isn't as bad as it looks. There is a good trail, and my pony knows itas well as I do. I enjoy riding by night."

  "But there are bears and other wild things, are there not?"

  "Not as many as I wish there were."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "I hate to see all the wild life killed off. Some day all these forestswill have game refuges like the Yellowstone National Park. They are comingeach year to have greater and greater value to the people of the plains.They are playgrounds, like the Alps. Campers are coming into my valleyevery day, and, while they increase the danger of fires, I welcome them.They are all advocates of the forest. As one man said: 'The mountainssupplement the plains. They give color and charm to the otherwisemonotonous West.' I confess I couldn't live on the prairies--not even onthe plains--if out of sight of the mountains. If I should ever settle downto a home it would be in a canon like this, with a great peak at my frontdoor."

  "It _is_ beautiful," the girl said, in the tone of sadness with which weconfront the perfect night, the perfect flower, the flawless landscape."It is both grand and peaceful."

  This tone of sadness pleased him. It showed her depth of perception, andhe reflected that she had not uttered a vacuous or silly phrase sincetheir first meeting. "She is capable of great development," he thought.Aloud he said: "You are a strange mingling of East and West. Do yourealize it?"

  "In what way?" she asked, feeling something ardent in his tone.

  "You typify to me at this moment this whole State. You fill me withenthusiasm for its future. Here you are, derived from the lawless West,yet taking on the culture and restraint of the East so readily that youseem not in the least related to--"

  He checked himself at this point, and she said: "My mother is not as roughas she seems, Mr. Cavanagh."

  "She must be more of the woman than appears, or she could not have bornesuch a daughter. But do you feel your relationship to her? Tell mehonestly, for you interest me."

  "I didn't at first, but I do now. I begin to understand her, and, besides,I feel in myself certain things that are in her, though I think I am morelike the Wetherfords. My father's family home was in Maryland."

  Ross could have talked on all night, so alluring was the girl's dimly-seenyet warmly-felt figure at his side, but a sense of danger and a knowledgethat he should be riding led him at last to say: "It is getting chill, wemust go in; but before we do so, let me say how much I've enjoyed seeingyou again. I hope the doctor will make favorable report on your mother'scase. You'll write me the result of the examination, won't you?"

  "If you wish me to."

  "I shall be most anxious to know."

  They were standing very near to each other at the moment, and the ranger,made very sensitive to woman's charm by his lonely life, shook withnewly-created love of her. A suspicion, a hope that beneath her cultivatedmanner lay the passionate nature of her mother gave an added force to hisdesire. He was sorely tempted to touch her, to test her; but her sweetvoice, a little sad and perfectly unconscious of evil, calmed him. Shesaid:

  "I hope to persuade my mother to leave the Forks. All the best peoplethere are against us. Some of them have been very cruel to her and to me,and, besides, I despise and fear the men who come to our table."

  "You must not exchange words with them," he all but commanded. "Beware ofGregg; he is a vile lot; do not trust him for an instant. Do not permitany of those loafers to talk with you, for if you do they will go away todefame you. I know them. They are unspeakably vile. It makes me angry tothink that Gregg and his like have the right to speak to you every daywhile I can only see you at long intervals."

  His heat betrayed the sense of proprietorship which he had begun to feel,in spite of his resolution. But the girl only perceived his solicitation,his friendly interest, and she answered: "I keep away from them all Ican."

  "You are right to distrust them," he replied, grimly. "Because old Sam hasmoney, he thinks he can do as he pleases. You must be especially carefulof him."

  "The worst is when I go on the street; but if mother does not sell thebusiness, I shall be obliged to stay in the Fork, no matter how I hateit."

  "I wish my station were not so far away," he mused, darkly. "But I'll ridedown as often as my duties will permit, and you must let me know howthings go. And if any of those fellows persecute you, you'll tell me,won't you? I wish you'd look upon me as your big brother. Will you dothat?" His voice entreated, and as she remained silent, he continued:"Roaring Fork is one of the worst towns in the State, and a girl like youneeds some one as a protector. I don't know just how to put it so that youwill not misunderstand me, but, you see, I protect the forest, thestreams, and the game; I help the settler in time of trouble; I am a kindof all-round big brother to everybody who needs help in the forest. Infact, I'm paid for protecting things that can't protect themselves, andso"--here he tried to lend his voice the accent of humor--"why shouldn't Ibe the protector of a girl like you, alone--worse than alone--in thislittle cow-town?"

  She remained dumb at one or two points where he clearly hoped for a word,and she was unable to thank him when he had finished. In this silence acurious constriction came into his throat. It was almost as if he had puthis passion into definite words, and as the light fell upon her heperceived that her bosom was heaving with deep emotion.

  "I _am_ lonely," she faltered out at last--"horribly lonely; and I knownow how people feel toward my mother, and it hurts me--it all hurts me;but I'm going to stay and help her--" She paused to recover her voice."And you _do_ seem different! I--I--trust you!"

  "I'm glad you understand me, and you _will_ let me know if I can help you,won't you?"

  "Yes," she answered, simply.

  "Good-night," he said, extending his hand.

  She placed her palm to his quite frankly, but the touch of it made furtherspeech at the moment impossible.

  They went in with such tell-tale faces that even Redfield wondered whathad passed between them.

  Excusing himself almost at once, Cavanagh left the room, and when helooked in, a few moments later, he was clothed in the ranger's dusty greenuniform, booted and spurred for his long, hard ride. Mrs. Redfieldfollowed him into the hall and out on the door-stone to say: "Ross, youmust be careful. This girl is very alluring in herself, but her mother,you know, is impossible."

  "You're needlessly alarmed, as usual," he smilingly replied. "Sheinterests me--that's patent; but beyond that, why--nonsense! Good-night."

  Nevertheless, despite his protestations, he went away up the trail withhis mind so filled with Lee Virginia's appealing face and form that hewould certainly have ridden over a precipice had it not been for hisexperienced pony, who had fortunately but one aim, and that was to crossthe range safely and to reach the home pasture at the earliest moment.

  Now that he was looking back upon three hours more of Lee's society,Cavanagh was ready to admit that he had left his range and ridden hard andfar with that one purpose in mind. He had been hungry for the sight ofher, and now that he had touched her hand and looked upon her again he wasa little surprised and deeply disturbed to find himself hungrier thanbefore.