Chapter 14: The Mule

They had been a month on the Trail. Behind them lay a land of startling contrast and grim beauty. They’d forded or ferried rivers and creeks that wound out of fastnesses so remote and silent that they seemed to have no end. Weird formations of varicolored rocks had formed desolate little wildernesses all by themselves. Cloud-stabbing peaks with snow-whitened summits had loomed in the distance. It was not a gentle country nor was it a place for timid people. But to the hardy of soul and the strong in heart who were able to face the challenges it flung, it was good.

Tad loved it, and Joe responded to it. Emma did not like it. For her it was too vast, too big and too grim, and while she appreciated its beauty she hoped that Oregon would be more soft and gentle. Little Joe frowned while he sought answers to problems which he felt must exist here and the rest of the young children were merely curious. Tired of the day-after-day riding, they wanted little now except to find the end of the journey and to be suitably diverted en route.

Barbara and Ellis, aglow with love for each other, saw the land they were passing through in a sort of happy daze. Each day was marvelous because each day they could be together, but the most imposing scenic view or the most majestic mountain meant less to them than a moon or star-lit evening when they could walk beneath soft light and be away on the magic wings that are granted all young lovers. While they were with those in the wagon they were at the same time apart from them. To each, the most important thing in the world was the other. A word, or a gesture, which in ordinary living would be commonplace, acquired a meaning and a significance all its own. Their private world was a wonderful place which no one else could enter.

They had seen no Indians but they were in Indian country. The mules and the cow were always staked close to the wagon and were never left unwatched. Guard duty was a source of special delight to Tad who always took the first watch in the first couple of hours after nightfall. Mike beside him, the rifle Snedeker had given him clutched firmly in both hands, Tad investigated every small sound that occurred and when there weren’t any he invented some. To Tad’s great disappointment no Indians had appeared yet, but he hadn’t lost hope. Each night, at ten o’clock, Tad went grudgingly to the bed while Joe took over until two. The third watch was Ellis’s.

Ellis lay prone in the grass, his head resting on cupped hands and his rifle beside him. Near by, the mules had eaten as much as they wanted and were standing close together. The tethered cow had lain down to chew her cud, and the wagon’s stained cover seemed pure white in the night’s unreal glow. Ellis’s big horse stamped a hoof and switched flies with its tail. Ellis raised his head to look at the horse and settled back to watch the star-studded sky.

It seemed to him that his life had had three phases. The first was his childhood, and he remembered his gay and gentle mother. She had soothed his cut fingers, skinned knees, heartbreaks, all the little tragedies of childhood that are unimportant to almost everyone except a child. Vividly, Ellis remembered riding with her, she on a spirited horse while he bestrode a pony. It had always seemed to him that they could ride forever.

The second, which Ellis thought of as his sterile phase, came after his mother died. His father was affectionate and kind, and in his own way he had been proud of Ellis. But he had been too preoccupied with gambling and his numerous enterprises to give enough attention to his son. Ellis had been grief-stricken when he died, but it was not the complete desolation he had known when his mother passed away.

The years when Uncle George had been in charge of him were the worst of all—Uncle George, the sanctimonious cheat who had come into possession of most of the family fortune, and by methods so legalistic and clever that even Ellis’s friends, who wanted to help him, could do nothing. But that was all in the past. Ellis had hated George at the time, but later events had made that hatred seem somehow dim and unimportant.

The third phase, a short one, had centered about Mary Harkness, a vivacious, pretty, intelligent little brunette. Ellis had thrown himself heart and soul at her feet. He knew now that she had never wanted him there and had tried, as politely as possible, to tell him so. But Ellis’s whole world had crashed when Mary married another.

Now, Ellis felt, he was entering upon the fourth and most worth-while phase of his life. It seemed to him that, until he met Barbara, he had never known his capacity for feeling. It was almost like living for twenty years without ever having been fully alive. In Barbara lay fruition and in her was the only possible life. Ellis knew, and he was grateful to Mary Harkness because she had helped him now. Ellis knew also that Emma trusted him pretty much, though not entirely, and he had a feeling that Joe trusted him not at all. At the thought of Joe’s worried and suspicious eyes watching him, Ellis felt the familiar rage and resentment beginning to surge up in him, and he clamped down hard on it because conquering his temper was the one thing he was determined to do.

Suddenly he sat up and grasped his rifle in both hands. Out of the night had come a sound that should not be. A moment later a shadow moved before him and Ellis’s heart leaped.

“Bobby!”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said softly. “I came out to see you.”

He rose, encircled her slim waist with his arms and kissed her. Their lips parted but their arms remained about each other while they looked at the stars and for the moment they were the whole world.

Ellis said, “I wish we were in Oregon.”

“Why?”

“So I could marry you.”

She said dreamily, “I wish we were there too.” Then she smiled. “Mother and Daddy were funny about insisting that all of us be settled in Oregon before we could get married.”

“Settled, and with a roof over our heads,” he reminded her. He grinned dryly. “Guess maybe they’re still not sure I’m capable of putting up a roof.”

“Oh, they think you’re capable, all right.” She giggled. “I guess they think you might take a fancy to some other girl. You know, an impulse. You’ve got lots of impulses, Ellis Garner!”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed. “I’ve got an impulse right now to kiss you twice.” He did so. “And to build a big, beautiful home for us and our twenty children.” His voice settled into a soft, crooning rhythm. “I’ll build a palace for my queen,” he promised, “all of pure white marble. But the colors inside will be warm and beautiful, like you. And every day I’ll bring you milk and honey, and all the rest of the time I’ll be happy just to look at you.”

She laughed gently. “Oh no, Ellis. It will be a nice log house, with a big kitchen where I can make the things you like, and every day when you come in from the fields you’ll bring me wild flowers. Except in winter, of course. Then you can bring me evergreen branches with bittersweet to trim them so I can always have everything looking just the way you want it to look.”

They stood together while the night wore on and dawn came. Ellis turned with a guilty start.

“I shouldn’t have kept you up!”

“I want to be up. This is more fun than sleeping!”

“You aren’t tired?”

“Truly I’m not.”

“Do you want to ride ahead this morning?”

“Oh yes!”

Hand in hand they walked back to the wagon. Ellis built a fire and heated water. Coming from the wagon, Joe stretched and went to look at the mules. A moment later, Emma had a gentle greeting and a caressing look for the two young people. They sat side by side and ate breakfast. Then Ellis saddled his horse and both mounted.

This was part of their ritual, something they did every day, and they told themselves that they were scouting the trail. But in reality, the wagon was slow and the horse was fast. He provided the wings which their fancies created for them. Barbara, no more than a feather’s weight, encircled Ellis’s waist and they were off. They would ride perhaps four or five miles, then walk together, leading the horse, until the wagon caught up with them. But this morning they were scarcely out of sight of the wagon when they saw them.