Hope Hathaway: A Story of Western Ranch Life

by Frances Parker

  CHAPTER XIV

  Late one afternoon during the following week Livingston drove up toHarris' ranch and helped from his buggy a small, fair-haired girl wholooked with wonderment at the squalid log buildings, the squealing,scurrying pigs and children, and the usual group of roughly dressed menwaiting for their supper. The pain in her eyes deepened, and she claspedLivingston's arm like a frightened child.

  "_O_, _mein Freund_, I fear!" she cried, drawing back.

  "Come," he urged gently. "There is nothing to fear. You must trust me,for I am indeed your friend, little girl. We will find the one who isexpecting you--who will love you and be a sister to you."

  A look of trustful obedience came into her sweet blue eyes, nowdisfigured by much weeping, and without hesitation she walked beside himpast the group of rough-looking men, dirty, barefooted children,scurrying pigs and dogs, to the kitchen door.

  An Indian woman with a baby in her arms stood in the shadow of the roomand motioned them to enter.

  "Is Miss Hathaway here?" inquired Livingston.

  At the sound of his voice the door of an inner room opened and Hope, herslender form gowned as he had first seen her, came quickly across theuntidy room toward them.

  "I am Hope," she said to the girl, taking both of her soft little handsin her own and looking in wonder at the childish face with its settingof wavy gold hair. Suddenly the broken-hearted girl was in her armssobbing out her grief upon her shoulder. Hope led her to a seat, removedher hat and coat, and uttered words of endearment to her, soothing heras she would have done a child.

  Could this impulsive, loving girl be Hope, wondered Livingston, whostill stood in the doorway. She smoothed back the bright hair from thepretty, childish face, exclaiming:

  "How beautiful you are! And what a little thing to have such a grief!Oh, it is cruel, _cruel_! Cry, dear, cry all you want to--it will do yougood, and the pain will sooner be gone."

  "_O, Gott im Himmel_," sobbed the German girl, "_gieb mir Muth es zuertragen!_"

  "But you are, oh, so much braver than I. Look at me, see what a great,big strong thing I am, and _I_ moaned and cried because the world wasn'tmade to my liking! Oh, it makes me _ashamed_ now, when I see such alittle, frail thing as you suffer such a real sorrow! But I am yourfriend--your sister, if you will have me."

  "How goot you are, _meine liebe Freundin_!" sobbed the girl.

  "May you never have reason to change your opinion," replied Hope slowly,in German.

  "She speaks my language!" exclaimed the German girl, with something likehopefulness in her voice.

  "But very poorly," apologized Hope, looking for the first time at theman standing quietly in the doorway.

  "It will comfort her that you speak it at all," he replied. "But withoutany language you would still be a comfort to her. I will leave her inyour hands, Miss Hathaway. She has had a long journey and--must be verytired." He bowed and turned to go, but, recollecting something, cameback into the room. "I am going now," he said to the German girl, "but Iwill come to see you often. You need have no fear when you arewith--Hope."

  Hope turned to him impulsively.

  "You will do as you say," she begged. "You will come often to see her."Then added, "You know she'll be terribly lonely at first!"

  "It will give me great pleasure, if I may," he replied.

  She held out her hand to him.

  "If you _may_! Are you not master of your own actions? Good-by!"

  She took her hand from his firm clasp with something like a jerk, andfound herself blushing furiously as she turned to the little Germangirl.

  As far as anyone could be made comfortable in the Harris home Hope madeher little charge so. She shared her room, her bed with her, took her toschool each day and kept her constantly at her side.

  She was a simple, trusting German girl, bright, and extremely pretty,and her name was Louisa Schulte. From the first she had loved Hope withan affection that was as touching as it was beautiful, and as she cameto know her better, day by day her love and admiration grew akin toworship. She believed her to be the most wonderful girl that ever lived,in some respects fairly superhuman. She marveled at the skill with whichshe could ride and shoot, and her wisdom in Western lore. And behindevery accomplishment, every word and act, Louisa read her heart, whichno one before had ever known.

  So finding in the bereaved girl, who had so strangely come into herlife, the sympathy and love for which she had vainly searched in one ofher own sex, Hope gave her in return the true wealth of a sister'sheart.

  For some time after Louisa's arrival Hope was with her almostconstantly, but the inactive life began to tell upon her. Her eyes wouldlight up with an involuntary longing at the sight of the breed boysracing over the hills upon their ponies.

  "Why don't you go?" asked the German girl, one morning, reading herfriend with observant eyes as the boys started out for a holiday.

  It was a beautiful warm Saturday morning. The two girls were sitting ona pile of logs by the side of the road sunning themselves, far enoughaway from the Harris house and its surroundings to enjoy the beauty of aperfect day.

  "I would rather stay here with you," replied Hope, arranging a wavinglock which the wind had displaced from Louisa's golden tresses. "Whenthe horse comes that I have sent for, and you have learned to ridebetter, we will go all over these mountains together. I will show youSydney's camp and take you to old Peter's cabin, and let you see wherewe found the den of coyotes. We will go everywhere then, and have such agood time!"

  Louisa looked at her tenderly, but her eyes were filled with the pain ofa great sorrow.

  "O, _Fraeulein_, you are goot, so goot to me! If I may ask, not too much,I wish to see where lies _mein lieber Fritz_. I vill weep no more--then.Ven I sleep the dreams come so much. If I could see once the place itwould be better, _nicht wahr_?"

  "Yes," replied Hope, "it is a lovely spot and you shall see it. Mr.Livingston could not have found a more beautiful place. Just now it isall a mass of flowers and green grass as far as you can see, and behindit is a great high jagged wall of stone. It is beautiful!"

  "Mr. Livingston is a good, true man," mused Louisa, lapsing into German,which Hope followed with some difficulty. "He was very kind to my poorFritz, who loved him dearly. His letters were filled with his praises.It was of him, of the beautiful country, and our love of which he alwayswrote. He was a good boy, _Fraeulein_."

  "Tell me about him," said Hope, adding hastily, "if you feel like it. Iwould love to hear."

  Hope could not have suggested a wiser course, for to speak of a grief ortrouble wears off its sharp edges.

  "He was a good boy," replied Louisa. "I cannot see why God has taken himfrom this beautiful place, and from me. It has been a year, now, since Ilast saw him. He left in a hurry. He had never spoken of love until thatday, nor until he told me of it did I know that it was real love I hadso long felt for him. We grew up together. He was my cousin. I had othercousins, but he was ever my best companion--my first thought. He cameto me that day and said: 'Louisa, I am going far away from here to thefree America. It breaks my heart to leave you. Will you promise to someday join me there and be my wife?' I promised him, and then cried muchbecause he was going so far. It was even worse than the army, I thought,and somehow it held a strange dread for me. But Fritz would not think ofthe army. His eldest brother returned, and as head of the family all themoney went to him. My aunt married again. Her husband is a wholesalemerchant of wines. He gave Fritz a position in his warehouse, but verysoon they quarreled. He seemed not to like Fritz. Then there was nothingfor the poor boy but the army, or far America. I could not blame himwhen he chose freedom. The lot of the youngest son is not always a happyone. A friend who had been here told all about this great country andthe good opportunities, so he came. His letters were so beautiful! Iused to read them over and over until the paper was worn and would breakin pieces. For a whole year I waited, and planned, and lived on theletters and my dreams, then filled with happiness I started to him. Tothink th
at I have come to the end of this long, strange journey to aforeign land to see but his grave! Oh, God in heaven, help me be brave!"

  "There is no death," said Hope, rising abruptly from the log upon whichshe had been sitting and standing erect before Louisa, her darkcommanding eyes forcing the attention of the grief-stricken girl. "Iknow there is no death. I feel it with every throb of my pulse--in everyatom of my being! _I_ and my _body_!--_I_ and my _body_!" she continuedimpressively. "How distinct the two! Can the death of this lump of claychange the _I_ that is really myself? Can anything exterminate theliving me? Every throb of my whole being tells me that I am more thanthis perishable flesh--that I am more than time or place or condition or_death_! I believe, like the Indians, that when we are freed from thishusk of death--this perishing flesh, that the we, as we truly are, islike a prisoner turned loose--that then, only do we realize what _life_really means."

  Louisa's innocent eyes were intent upon her as she strove to grasp thefull meaning of the English words.

  "_Ich weiss; es ist wahr_," she replied softly, "_aber wenn der Kummerso frisch ist, dann ist es unmoeglich in dem Gedanken Trost zu finden_."

  "I should have said nothing," said Hope in contrition, seating herselfupon the log pile again.

  "_Nein_, my dear, dear friend! I have now dis misery, but I belief you.Somedimes your vords vill help--vat you calls 'em--vill _soothe_, und Ivill be better."

  "Then it's all right," said Hope, jumping from the logs and giving herhand to Louisa to assist her down. "Let's walk a little."

  They went slowly up the road toward the school-house, and had notproceeded far when they met Livingston driving toward them in an openbuggy.

  Hope waved her hand to him and hastened forward, while Louisa smiledupon him the faintest of dimpled greetings, then drew back to the sideof the road while the girl of the prairies stepped up to the side of hisbuggy.

  "You haven't kept your word very well," she said. "We have seen you onlytwice, and Louisa has wondered many times what has been keeping you.Isn't that so, Louisa?" she nodded at the girl. "I am glad you have comethis morning, because I want to ask you a favor."

  "I am at your service," he replied.

  "You know Louisa hasn't learned to ride yet, and Harris' have no otherway of conveyance, so I wanted to ask you to take her in your buggy--tosee Fritz's grave." The last few words were added below her breath.

  "I came this morning to ask you if she did not wish to see it," hereplied. "It might be good for her."

  "Of course _you_ should be the first one to think of it!" she saidquickly, shading her eyes with her hand to look down the long, crookedstretch of road. "I didn't think of it at all myself. She has just askedme if she might see it. All the virtues are yours by right," shecontinued, showing, as she again faced him, a flash of her strong whiteteeth. "And the funny part of it is, I think I am getting jealous of thevery virtues you possess!"

  "You should see with my eyes awhile," he replied, "and you would have nocause for jealousy."

  "I do not know jealousy in the ordinary sense of the word--that wasentirely left out of my make-up, but for once I covet the attributes ofthoughtfulness that should be ingrained in every woman's nature."

  When she had spoken he seemed struggling for an instant with some strongemotion. Without replying he stepped from his buggy and walked to theheads of his horses, presumably to arrange some part of the harness.

  Livingston struggled to keep back the words which sprang to his lips. Heloved the girl with all the strength of his nature. Her whole attitudetoward him artlessly invited him to speak, but his manhood forbade it.

  He was a puzzle, she thought, impatiently. Why did he not make a littleeffort to woo her, after having declared his love in no uncertainmanner? She was not sure that she wanted to receive his advances if heshould make any, but why did he not make them? She knew that she wasinterested in him, and she knew, also, that she was piqued by hisapparent indifference. She knew he was like a smoldering volcano, andshe had all a girl's curiosity to see it burst forth; but with thethought came a regret that their acquaintance would then be at an end.

  "I can take you both up there now, if you wish," he said, coming aroundto the side of the buggy. "The seat is wide and I do not think you willbe uncomfortable."

  Hope had turned her eyes once more down the narrow, winding stretch ofgray toward the Harris ranch.

  "I think I will not go," she replied, still peering ahead from under theshade of her hand. "Yes, I am sure now that's Sydney. See, just goinginto the corral. Jim was to have brought me an extra saddle horseto-day, but Sydney has come instead, so I'll go back. Louisa can goalone with you." She motioned to the girl. "Come, Louisa, Mr. Livingstonwants to take you for a little drive. I will be down there at the housewhen you come back."

  The girl understood enough of their conversation to know where she wasexpected to go. Obediently, trustfully, with one loving glance at Hope,she climbed into the buggy beside Livingston and was soon riding rapidlyup the mountain road to the grave of her sweetheart.