CHAPTER XIV
THE YOUNG EAGLE RETURNS TO HIS EYRIE
It was good to face the West again. The wild heart of the youth flungoff all doubt, all regret. Not for him were the quiet joys of villagelife. No lane or street could measure his flight. His were the gleaming,immeasurable walls of the Sangre de Cristo range, his the grassymountain parks and the silent canons, and the peaks. "To hell with theEast, and all it owns," was his mood, and in that mood he renounced allclaim to Mary.
He sat with meditative head against the windowpane, listless as a cagedand sullen eagle, but his soul was far ahead, swooping above the swellsthat cut into the murky sky. His eyes studied every rod of soil as heretraced his way up that great wind-swept slope, noting every change invegetation or settlement. Five years before he had crept like a lizard;now he was rushing straight on like the homing eagle who sees his homecrag gleam in the setting sun.
The cactus looked up at him with spiney face. The first prairie dogsitting erect uttered a greeting to which he smiled. The first miragefilled his heart with a rush of memories of wild rides, and the greasewood recalled a hundred odorous camp fires. He was getting home.
The people at the stations grew more unkempt, untamed. The broad hatsand long mustaches of the men proclaimed the cow country at last. Itseemed as though he might at any moment recognize some of them. At acertain risk to himself he got off the train at one or two points totalk with the boys. As it grew dark he took advantage of every wait tostretch his legs and enjoy the fresh air, so different in its clarityand crisp dryness from the leaf-burdened, mist-filled atmosphere ofMarmion. He lifted his eyes to the West with longing too great forwords, eager to see the great peaks peer above the plain's rim.
The night was far spent when the brakeman called the name of the littletown in which he had left his outfit, and he rose up stiff and sore fromhis cramped position.
Kintuck, restless from long confinement in a stall, chuckled with joywhen his master entered and called to him. It was still dark, but thatmattered little to such as Mose. He flung the saddle on and cinched ittight. He rolled his extra clothes in his blanket and tied it behindhis saddle, and then, with one hand on his pommel, he said to thehostler, moved by a bitter recklessness of mind:
"Well, that squares us, stranger. If anybody asks you which-a-way 'BlackMose' rode jist say ye didn't notice." A leap, a rush of hoofs, and thedarkness had eaten both horse and man.
It was a long ride, and as he rode the dawn came over the plains, swift,silent, majestic with color. His blood warmed in his limbs and his headlifted. He was at home in the wild once more, all ties were cut betweenhim and the East. Mary was not for him. Maud had grown indifferent, Jackwould never come West, and Mr. and Mrs. Burns were merely cheerymemories. There was nothing now to look backward upon--nothing to checkhis career as hunter and explorer. All that he had done up to thismoment was but careful preparation for great journeys. He resolved tofling himself into unknown trails--to know the mountains as no other manknew them.
Again he rode down into the valley of the Arickaree, and as the boyscame rolling out with cordial shouts of welcome, his eyes smarted alittle. He slipped from his horse and shook hands all around, and endedby snatching Pink and pressing her soft cheek against hislips--something he had never done before.
They bustled to get his breakfast, while Reynolds took care of Kintuck.Cora, blushing prettily as she set the table for him, said: "We'remighty glad to see you back, Mose. Daddy said you'd never turn up again,but I held out you would."
"Oh, I couldn't stay away from Kintuck and little Pink," he replied.
"How'd they feed ye back there?" inquired Mrs. Reynolds.
"Oh, fair to middlin'--but, of course, they couldn't cook like MaReynolds."
"Oh, you go hark!" cried Mrs. Reynolds, vastly delighted. "They've gotso much more to do with."
It was good to sit there in the familiar kitchen and watch these simple,hearty women working with joy to feed him. His heart was very tender,and he answered most of their questions with unusual spirit, fendingoff, however, any reference to old sweethearts. His talk was all ofabsorbing interest to the women. They were hungry to know how peoplewere living and dressing back there. It was so sweet and fine to be ableto return to the East--and Mrs. Reynolds hoped to do so before she died.Cora drew from Mose the information that the lawns were beautifullygreen in Marmion, and that all kinds of flowers were in blossom, andthat the birds were singing in the maples. Even his meagre descriptionsbrought back to the girl the green freshness of June.
"Oh, I'm so tired of these bare hills," she said wistfully. "I wish Icould go East again, back to our old home in Missouri."
"I wish now I'd stayed here and sent you," said Mose.
She turned in surprise. "Why so, Mose?"
"Because I had so little fun out of it, while to you it would have beena picnic."
"You're mighty good, Mose," was all she said in reply, but her eyeslingered upon his face, which seemed handsomer than ever before, for itwas softened by his love, his good friends, and the cheerful home.
In the days that followed Cora took on new youth and beauty. Her headlifted, and the swell of her bosom had more of pride and grace than everbefore in her life. She no longer shrank from the gaze of men, even ofstrangers, for Mose seemed her lover and protector. Before his visit tothe East she had doubted, but now she let her starved heart feed ondreams of him.
Mose had little time to give to her, for (at his own request) Reynoldswas making the highest use of his power. "I want to earn every cent Ican for the next three months," Mose explained, and he often did doubleduty. He was very expert now with the rope and could throw and tie asteer with the best of the men. His muscles seemed never to tire nor hisnerves to fail him. Rain, all-night rides, sleeping on the groundbeneath frosty blankets, nothing seemed to trouble him. He was nevercheery, but he was never sullen.
One day in November he rode up to the home ranch leading a mule with apack saddle fully rigged.
"What are you doing with that mule?" asked Reynolds as he came out ofthe house, followed by Pink.
"I'm going to pack him."
"Pack him? What do you mean?"
"I'm going to hit 'the long trail.'"
Cora came hurrying forward. "Good evening, Mose."
"Good evening, Cory. How's my little Pink?"
"What did you say about hittin' the trail, Mose?"
"Now I reckon you'll give an account of yourself," said Reynolds with awink.
Mose was anxious to avoid an emotional moment; he cautiously replied:"Oh, I'm off on a little hunting excursion; don't get excited about it.I'm hungry as a coyote; can I eat?"
Cora was silenced but not convinced, and after supper, when the oldpeople withdrew from the kitchen, she returned to the subject again.
"How long are you going to be gone this time?"
Mose saw the storm coming, but would not lie to avoid it.
"I don't know; mebbe all winter."
She dropped into a chair facing him, white and still. When she spoke hervoice was a wail. "O Mose! I can't live here all winter without you."
"Oh, yes, you can; you've got Pink and the old folks."
"But I want _you_! I'll die here without you, Mose. I can't endure it."
His face darkened. "You'd better forget me; I'm a hoodoo, Cory; nobodyis ever in luck when I'm around. I make everybody miserable."
"I was never really happy till you come," she softly replied.
"There are a lot of better men than I am jest a-hone'in to marry you,"he interrupted her to say.
"I don't want them--I don't want anybody but you, and now you go off andleave me----"
The situation was beyond any subtlety of the man, and he sat in silencewhile she wept. When he could command himself he said:
"I'm mighty sorry, Cory, but I reckon the best way out of it is to justtake myself off in the hills where I can't interfere with any one's funbut my own. Seems to me I'm fated to make trouble all along the line,an
d I'm going to pull out where there's nobody but wolves and grizzlies,and fight it out with them."
She was filled with a new terror: "What do you mean? I don't believe youintend to come back at all!" She looked at him piteously, the tears onher cheeks.
"Oh, yes, I'll round the circle some time."
She flung herself down on the chair arm and sobbed unrestrainedly."Don't go--please!"
Mose felt a sudden touch of the same disgust which came upon him in thepresence of his father's enforcing affection. He arose. "Now, Cory, seehere; don't you waste any time on me. I'm no good under the sun. I likeyou and I like Pinkie, but I don't want you to cry over me. I ain'tworth it. Now that's the God's truth. I'm a black hoodoo, and you'llnever prosper till I skip; I'm not fit to marry any woman."
Singularly enough, this gave the girl almost instant comfort, and shelifted her head and dried her eyes, and before he left she smiled alittle, though her face was haggard and tear stained.
Mose was up early and had his packs ready and Kintuck saddled when Mrs.Reynolds called him to breakfast. Cora's pale face and piteous eyesmoved him more deeply than her sobbing the night before, but there was acertain inexorable fixedness in his resolution, and he did not falter.At bottom the deciding cause was Mary. She had passed out of his life,but no other woman could take her place--therefore he was ready to cutloose from all things feminine.
"Well, Mose, I'm sorry to see you go, I certainly am so," said Reynolds."_But_, you ah you' own master. All I can say is, this old ranch isopen to you, and shall be so long as we stay hyer--though I am mightyuncertain how long we shall be able to hold out agin this new land-boom.You had better not stay away too long, or you may miss us. I reckon weah all to be driven to the mountains very soon."
"I may be back in the spring. I'm likely to need money, and be obligedto come back to you for a job."
On this tiny crumb of comfort Cora's hungry heart seized greedily. Thelittle pink-cheeked one helped out the sad meal. She knew nothing of thelong trail upon which her hero was about to set foot, and tookpossession of the conversation by telling of a little antelope whichone of the cowboys had brought her.
The mule was packed and Mose was about to say good-by. The sun was stilllow in the eastern sky. Frost was on the grass, but the air was crispand pleasant. All the family stood beside him as he packed his outfit onthe mule and threw over it the diamond hitch. As he straightened up heturned to the waiting ones and said: "Do you see that gap in the range?"
They all looked where he pointed. Down in the West, but lighted intounearthly splendor by the morning light, arose the great range of snowypeaks. In the midst of this impassable wall a purple notch could beseen.
"Ever sence I've been here," said Mose, with singular emotion, "I'velooked away at that range and I've been waiting my chance to see whatthat canon is like. There runs my trail--good-by."
He shook hands hastily with Cora, heartily with Mrs. Reynolds, andkissed Pink, who said: "Bring me a little bear or a fox."
"All right, honey, you shall have a grizzly."
He swung into the saddle. "Here I hit the trail for yon blue notch andthe land where the sun goes down. So long."
"Take care o' yourself, boy."
"Come back soon," called Cora, and covered her face with her shawl in aworld-old gesture of grief.
In the days that followed she thought of him as she saw him last, aminute fleck on the plain. She thought of him when the rains fell, andprayed that he might not fall ill of fever or be whelmed by a stream. Heseemed so little and weak when measured against that mighty andmerciless wall of snow. Then when the cold white storms came and theplain was hid in the fury of wind and sleet, she shuddered and thoughtof him camped beside a rock, cold and hungry. She thought of him lyingwith a broken leg, helpless, while his faithful beasts pawed the groundand whinnied their distress. She spoke of these things once or twice,but her father merely smiled.
"Mose can take care of himself, daughter, don't you worry."
Months passed before they had a letter from him, and when it came itbore the postmark of Durango.
"DEAR FRIENDS: I should a-written before, but the fact is I hate to write and then I've been on the move all the time. I struck through the gap and angled down to Taos, a Pueblo Indian town, where I stayed for a while--then went on down the Valley to Sante Fee. Then I hunted up Delmar. He was glad to see me, but he looks old. He had a hell of a time after I left. It wasn't the way the papers had it--but he won out all right. He sold his sheep and quit. He said he got tired of shooting men. I stayed with him--he's got a nice family--two girls--and then I struck out into the Pueblo country. These little brown chaps interest me but they're a different breed o' cats from the Ogallalahs. Everybody talks about the Snake Dance at Moki, so I'm angling out that way. I'm going to do a little cow punchin' for a man in Apache County and go on to the Dance. I'm going through the Navajoe reservation. I stand in with them. They've heard of me some way--through the Utes I reckon."
The accounts of the Snake Dance contained mention of "Black Mose," whokept a band of toughs from interfering with the dance. His wonderfulmarksmanship was spoken of. He did not write till he reached Flagstaff.His letter was very brief. "I'm going into the Grand Canon for a fewdays, then I go to work on a ranch south of here for the winter. In thespring I'm going over the range into California."
When they heard of him next he was deputy marshal of a mining town, andthe Denver papers contained long despatches about his work in clearingthe town of desperadoes. After that they lost track of himaltogether--but Cora never gave him up. "He'll round the big circle oneo' these days--and when he does he'll find us all waiting, won't he,pet?" and she drew little Pink close to her hungry heart.