Lost Pueblo (1992)

Lost Pueblo

Zane Grey

*

Chapter
1

Janey Endicott did not see anything of Arizona until morning. The train had crossed the state line after dark. New Mexico, however, with its bleak plains and rugged black ranges, its lonely reaches, had stirred in her quite new sensations. Her father had just knocked upon her door, awakening her at an unusual hour. She had leaped at her father's casual proposal to take a little trip West with him, but it had begun to have a rather interesting significance to her. And Janey was not so sure how she was going to take it.

They had arrived at Flagerstown late in the night, and Janey had gone to bed tired out. Upon awakening this morning, she was surprised at an absence of her usual languor. She appeared wide awake in a moment. The sun streamed in at the window, very bright and golden; and the air that blew in with it was sharp and cold.

"Gee! I thought someone said it was spring-time," said Janey, as she quickly got into slippers and dressing gown. Then she looked out of her window. Evidently the little hotel was situated on the outskirts of town. She saw a few scattered houses on each side, among the pine trees. There were rugged gray rocks, covered with vines and brush. The pines grew thicker and merged into a dark green forest. In the distance showed white peaks against the deep blue of sky. Janey had an inkling that she was going to like this adventure.

She did not care to admit it, but, although she was only twenty years old, she had found a good deal to pall on her at home in the East. Serious thought appeared to be something she generally shunned; yet to her, now and then, it came involuntarily.

While she dressed she pondered upon the situation. She had never been West before. After college there had been European travel, and then the usual round of golf, motoring, dancing, with all that went with them. She was well aware of her father's dissatisfaction with her generation. Despite his attitude he had seldom interfered with her ways of being happy. This trip had a peculiar slant, now that she scrutinized it closely. They were to meet a young archaeologist here in Flagerstown, and probably arrange to have him take them to the canyon and other scenic places. Janey had become acquainted with him in New York, where he had been lecturing on the prehistoric ruins of the Southwest. Phillip Randolph had struck Janey as being different from the young men she played about with, but insofar as her charms were concerned he was as susceptible as the rest. Randolph had never betrayed his feelings by word or action. He had seemed a manly, quiet sort of chap, college bred, but somewhat old-fashioned in his ways, and absorbed in his research work. Janey had liked him too well to let him see much of her. Not until she and her father had been out West did he mention that he expected to meet Randolph. Then she was reminded that her father had been quite taken with the young archaeologist. It amused Janey.

"Dad might have something up his sleeve," she soliloquized. "I just don't quite get him lately."

Janey found him in the comfortable sitting room, reading a newspaper before an open fireplace. He was a well-preserved man of sixty, handsome and clean-cut of face, a typical New Yorker, keen and worldly, yet of kindly aspect.

"Good morning, Janey," he said, folding his paper and smiling up at her. "I see you've dispensed with at least some of your make-up. You look great."

"I confess I feel great," responded Janey, frankly. "Must be this Arizona air. Lead me to some lamb chops, Dad."

At breakfast Janey caught a twinkle in her father's fine eyes. He was pleased that she appeared hungry and not inclined to find fault with the food and drink served. Janey felt he had more on his mind than merely giving her a good time. It might well be that he was testing a theory of his own relative to the reaction of an oversophisticated young woman to the still primitive West.

"Randolph sent word that he could not meet us here," remarked her father. "We will motor out to a place called Mormon Canyon. It's a trading post, I believe. Randolph will be there."

"We'll ride into the desert?" asked Janey, with enthusiasm.

"Nearly a hundred miles. I daresay it will be a ride you'll remember. Janey, will you wear that flimsy dress?"

"Surely. I have my coat in case it's cold."

"Very well. Better pack at once. I've ordered a car."

"Are there any stores in this burg? I want to buy several things."

"Yes. Some very nice stores. But hurry, my dear. I'm eager to start."

When Janey went out to do her shopping, she certainly wished she had worn her coat. The air was nipping, and the wind whipped dust in her face. Flagerstown appeared a dead little town. She shuddered at the idea of living there. Limiting her errands to one store, she hurried back toward the hotel. She encountered Indians who despite their white man's garb were picturesque and thrilling to her. She noted that they regarded her with interest. Then she saw a Mexican boy leading several beautiful spirited horses. There was nothing else in her short walk that attracted her attention.

In a short time she was packed and ready for her father when he came to her room. He acted more like a boy than her erstwhile staid and quiet parent. The car was waiting outside.

"We're off," declared Mr. Endicott with an air of finality. And Janey bit her tongue to keep from retorting that he could speak for himself.

Soon they left the town behind and entered a forest of stately pines, growing far apart over brown-matted, slow-rising ground. The fragrance was similar to that of Eastern forests, except that it had a dry, sweet quality new to Janey. Here and there the road crossed open ranch country, from which snow-clad peaks were visible. Janey wondered why Easterners raved so about the Alps when the West possessed such mountains as these. She was sorry when she could see them no more. Her father talked a good deal about this part of Arizona, and seemed to be well informed.

"Say, Dad, have you been out here before?" she asked.

"No. Randolph talked about the country. He loves it. No wonder!"

Janey made no reply, and that perhaps was more of a compliment than she usually paid places. The road climbed, but neither the steepness nor the roughness of it caused the driver any concern. Soon the car, entering thicker forest, dark and cool, reached the summit of a ridge and started down a gradual descent, where the timber thinned out, and in a couple of miles failed on the edge of the desert.

It was Janey Endicott's first intimate sight of any desert. She felt strongly moved; yet whether it was in awe or wonder or reverence or fear, or a little of each combined, she could not tell. The sum of every extended view she had ever seen, in her whole life, could not compare with the tremendous open space before her. First it was silver and gray, dotted with little green trees, then it sloped off yellow and red, and ended in a great hollow of many hues, out of which dim purple shapes climbed.

"That must be the Painted Desert, if I remember Randolph correctly," said her father. "It is magnificent. Nothing in Europe like it! And Randolph told me that this is nothing compared to the Utah country two hundred miles north."

"Let's go, Dad," replied Janey, dreamily.

From that time on the ride grew in absorbing interest for Janey, until she was no longer conscious of reflection about her impressions. The Little Colorado River, the vast promontory of Kishlipi, the giant steppes up to the Badlands, the weird and sinister rock formations stretching on to an awful blue gulf which was the Grand Canyon; the wondrous flat tablelands called mesas by the driver, the descent into glaring sandy Moencopi Wash, and up again, higher than ever, and on and on over leagues of desert, with black ranges beckoning--these successive stages of the ride claimed Janey's attention as had no other scenery in her experience.

She was not ready for the trading post. They had reached it too soon for her. It looked like one of the blocks of red rock they had passed so frequently. But near at hand it began to look more like a habitation. All about was sand, yellow and red and gray; and on the curved knife-edged ridge-crests it was blowing like silver smoke. There were patches of green below the trading post, and beneath them a wide hollow, where columns of dust or sand whirled across the barren waste. Beyond rose white-whorled cliffs, wonderful to see, and above them, far away, the black fringed top of an endless mesa.

"What do you think of it, Janey?" asked Endicott curiously.

"Now I understand why Phillip Randolph seemed such a square peg in a round hole, as my friends called him," replied Janey, enigmatically.

"Humph! They don't know him very well," declared her father.

They were met at the door of the post by the trader, John Bennet. He was carrying some Navajo rugs. His sombrero was tipped over one ear. He had a weather-beaten face, and was a middle-aged man of medium height, grizzled and desert-worn, with eyes that showed kindliness and good humor.

"Wal, heah you are," he welcomed them, throwing down the rugs. "Reckon we wasn't expectin' you so soon. Get down an' come in."

Janey entered the door, into what appeared to be a colorful and spacious living room. Here she encountered a large woman with sleeves rolled up showing brown and capable arms. She beamed upon Janey and bade her make herself "to home." Then she joined the others outside, leaving Janey alone.

She looked around with interest. The broad window seat, with windows opening to the desert view, appealed strongly to Janey. Removing coat and hat she sat down to rest and take stock of things.

The long room contained many Indian rugs, some of which adorned the walls. On a table lay scattered silver-ornamented belts, hatbands and bridles. Over the wide fireplace mantel hung Indian plaques, and on top of the bookcase were articles of Indian design, beaded, and some primitive pottery. A burned-out fire smoldered on the hearth.

At this point Mrs. Bennet came in, accompanied by the trader, and Endicott, and a tall young man in khaki. Janey had seen him somewhere. Indeed, it was Phillip Randolph. Brown-faced, roughly garbed, he fitted the desert environment decidedly to Janey's taste.

"Miss Endicott, I reckon you don't need no introduction to Phil here," announced Mrs. Bennet, with a keen glance running over Janey's short French frock, sheer stockings and high-heeled shoes.

"Phil?... Oh, you mean Mr. Randolph." The young man bowed rather stiffly and stepped toward her.

"I hope you remember me, Miss Endicott," he said.

"I do, Mr. Randolph," replied Janey, graciously, offering her hand.

"It's good to see you out here in my West. I really never believed you'd come, though your father vowed he'd fetch you."

"Well, Dad succeeded, though I can't understand it," rejoined Janey, laughing.

"Mr. Endicott, did you-all have a nice trip out?" asked Mrs. Bennet.

"I did. My daughter's rather doubtful yet, I fear."

"Now, isn't that too bad, Miss Endicott," sympathized the genial woman. "I saw right off how pale you are. You'll get your health back in this desert."

"My health!" exclaimed Janey, almost indignantly. "Why, I'm absurdly healthy. I've been picked for a health poster. It's my father who is ailing."

"Excuse me, Miss," said Mrs. Bennet, embarrassed. "You see your father looks so strong--"

"It isn't his body that's weak, Mrs. Bennet," interrupted Janey. "It's his mind."

Here Phillip came to the rescue, as Janey remembered he had always done in New York.

"Mrs. Bennet, it's not a question of ill health for anybody," he explained. "Mr. Endicott was an old friend of my father's. I met him in New York. He wanted to come out West and get Miss Janey as far away from civilization as possible, to--"

"I'll say he's done it," interrupted Janey. "It must be a real knockout to live here if you're crazy about miles of nothing but sand, rocks and sky, and you've committed some crime or other and want to hide."

Mrs. Bennet tried to control her amazement.

"Mr. Endicott, your rooms are not quite ready. Please wait here a little.... Pa, see that them lazy cowboys fetch in the baggage."

"Phil, where are the boys, anyhow?" asked Bennet, as his spouse bustled out.

"They were lounging in the shade when the car came up. Then they disappeared like jack rabbits in the sage. Sure they're going to be funny. I'll help you find them."

"Folks, make yourselves comfortable," invited Bennet, and left the room with the archaeologist.

Mr. Endicott sauntered over to Janey and gazed disapprovingly down upon her.

"Janey, I don't mind you calling me crazy or poking fun at me. But please don't extend that to my young friend Randolph. His father was the finest man I ever knew, and Phillip is pretty much like him.... Janey, you'll have to put your best foot forward if you want to appear well to Phillip Randolph. He's not likely to see the sophisticated type with a microscope out here. In New York he had you buffaloed. You couldn't like him because you didn't understand him."

"Darling Father," replied Janey, smiling tantalizingly up at him. "Your name may be Elijah, but you're no prophet. I liked your young friend well enough to let him alone. But that was in New York where there are a million men. I don't know about out here. Probably he'll bore me to extinction. Can't you see he's as dry as the dust of this desert? He's living two thousand years behind the times. Fancy digging in the earth for things of the past. Well, he might dig up a jeweled corncob pipe and discover there were glamour girls in the old Aztec days."