Lost Pueblo (1992) (14 page)

The sun had set and the sky was full of rosy clouds when Randolph returned, dusty and tired, wiping his tanned face. He seemed different to Janey, or she saw him with different eyes. There was something proven about him.

"How's my fair prisoner?" he asked.

"If I'm better in body and mind, I can't thank you for it," she replied.

"Quien sabe?" he returned. "Do you like Beckyshibeta?"

"This terrible shut-in lonely hole in the rocks? Heavens!" she ejaculated, languidly. "Janey, be honest," he said.

"Why, Phillip, honest is my middle name," she averred.

"No. It might be game, but it's not honest. You are as crooked as a rail fence mentally... Please be honest once, Janey."

"Why?" she inquired, curious, in spite of her frivolity.

"Because I have always connected you somehow with Beckyshibeta. Strange, but it's so. I believed you would like it--be inspired, perhaps softened."

"Phillip, am I hard?"

"Hard as these rocks."

"You are not flattering."

"Maybe not. But I'm honest," he said, stoutly.

"No, you're not. You're not straight about this stunt of yours. Dragging me off here!" And she bent penetrating eyes on Randolph.

"You will find me honest in the end," he replied, the dark red blood staining his cheek.

"Ah-huh," returned Janey, doubtfully.

"Are you going to be honest or not?" he inquired, sharply. "I still have faith left in you--enough to believe you're not utterly lost to--to the dream of glory of nature."

"Ain't nature grand?" rejoined Janey, with simpering impudence.

"Janey Endicott, if you don't love Beckyshibeta, I shall despise you," he declared, hotly.

There was no doubt about this, Janey saw. Randolph was at war with the world--backing his faith in her against the materialism and paganism of the modern day. It thrilled Janey--quite robbed her of her contrariness.

"Philip, I'd like to make you despise me, but I can't honestly. I do love Beckyshibeta, and I am glad you dragged me here," she said, with a rich note in her voice, and turned away her face.

"Thank you. That will help," he replied, with emotion.

Janey watched him go down to the creek with the water bucket. It would hardly do, Janey considered, for her to think seriously about him just then. But she realized she must, sooner or later, have a reckoning with herself. For the present, she must stick to her part, and not let any earnestness or eloquence of Randolph's betray her into honesty again.

Randolph returned whistling. Besides the brimming bucket, he carried a log of wood big enough to crush most men Janey knew. She leisurely approached the camp and watched him swing an ax. He started a fire, put on the oven, and then went for more wood. This time he brought such a big load that Janey objected.

"You'll break your back," she said in alarm. "Phillip, you may not be the most desirable of companions, but you're better than a cripple. Please be careful."

"Say, I'm not half a man. You ought to see an Indian pack in firewood. He fetches a whole tree... But come to think of it, if that causes you concern, I'll try a big load next time."

Janey did not answer this. She sat down close by and watched him get supper.

"Phillip, how long will our supplies last--grub, as the cowboys call it?" she asked.

"I packed enough for three weeks, but did not allow for your unsuspected capacity. I daresay, if I stint myself, it'll last ten days."

"And then what?"

"Sufficient unto the day. We can subsist on rabbits, or I can ride to an Indian camp over here and get more. Or--we can return to the post."

"What! You'd take me back there--to face my father, the Bennets and the cowboys, knowing me ruined, disgraced?" she exclaimed.

"Sure, I will," he replied, cheerfully.

"Philip, if any other man had done this thing to me, and fetched me back--what would you do?"

"Do? A whole lot. I'd kill him."

"Exactly. But it's all right for you to do it?"

"Janey, my intentions are honorable."

"Do you imagine you can make the cowboys believe that?"

"I confess I'm a little worried on that score," he replied, ponderingly. "As a rule cowboys are obtuse and inclined to be bullheaded. Then they were so absurdly infatuated, and each of them thought he owned you. Stupid, conceited jackasses! Still they had ample encouragement."

Janey relapsed into silence, the better to enjoy the ever-increasing humor of this situation, and the deliciousness of another sentiment that seemed hard to define. Presently Randolph began to talk, as if she were the most interested of comrades, as indeed, if the truth were admitted, she was.

"I followed another blind lead today, all to no avail. Eight hours of digging for nothing. How often have I done that here! But I know Beckyshibeta is buried here somewhere. If I only had unlimited time! But the department insists on definite rewards, so to speak. I have to find things--bones, pottery, stone utensils and weapons. In short, I am forced to explore where they tell me to and not where I want to. Elliot, head of our department, was out last year. I think I told you. Awful pill--Elliot! He's only a surface scratcher. Well, he belittled my theory. He said there was little sign of ancient pueblo here at Beckyshibeta... And so I can get only snatches at work here."

"Suppose we tell Elliot to go where it's hot," suggested Janey.

"I wish I could. But I must have bread and butter, and some clean clothes occasionally," he returned.

"Phillip, do you always expect to be poor?" she asked.

"I hope not. I have my dream. But I suppose I really always will be."

"Too bad. But I don't know. Money is a curse, they say. Personally, I don't see it... Do you know I am rich?"

"No. Your father, of course. But are you, too?"

"Yes, disgustingly rich. My mother left me several hundred thousand dollars when she died."

"Good Lord!" ejaculated Randolph. "Your father never told me that."

"Well, it's true. And Dad tells me it has nearly doubled. You see I can't touch the whole principle until I'm twenty-five. I have only the income from it--fifty thousand or so a year--and I confess, I'm broke half the time. I'm always borrowing from Dad."

"Janey, are you honest, now?"

"Assuredly. I certainly wouldn't string you about money."

"Damn him, anyway," declared Randolph, forcefully, with a violent gesture.

"Who? Dad?" she asked, innocently.

But Randolph did not answer and there was an immediate change in his demeanor. He prepared supper in silence, and remained glum during the eating of it. She partook heartily of the good meal, and then left Randolph to himself. By this time the early twilight was creeping under the walls and it would soon be night. Janey strolled a little on the edge of the bank. She saw one lone star come wondrously out of the paling pink. Fair as a star when only one was shining in the sky! She had read that somewhere. Wordsworth, perhaps. What would he or Tennyson or Ruskin make out of Beckyshibeta? There was nothing in Europe to compare with the canyon country. Janey felt proud of that.

As it grew dark she returned to the campfire. Randolph had disappeared. She looked into the opal heart of the embers and saw beautiful disturbing visions there. Then she climbed up the rock to her bed.

As she sat down on it she was surprised to find it high and soft. Upon examination she discovered a foot layer of cedar boughs under it. How fragrant! Randolph must have done that right after supper. He was a paradox. He had handled her roughly, had driven her to the limit of endurance, yet he was thoughtful of her comfort. But the new bed certainly was a relief and a joy. Janey sighed for some soft woolly pajamas. But she had to sleep in her clothes. After removing her shoes, she decided she would take off her stockings, too.

She crawled in between the blankets, and knew in her heart she would not have exchanged them for silk sheets. Weary, aching as she was, she could not wish it otherwise. She had never actually experienced rest. She had never been sufficiently aware of comfort, ease. They had been habits, with no reason for them. Here they served a wonderful blessing, a reward.

Where had Randolph gone? It had upset him to learn she was rich. Janey could not figure out just why. No one would take him for a fortune hunter. It would be more embarrassing, of course, to compromise a wealthy girl than a poor one, simply because marriage would not have such a sacrificial look. Every hour of this adventure had enhanced its romance, augmented its possibilities for delight as well as pain. What would the new day bring?

Chapter
7

Janey had been alone all morning. For several hours she had welcomed the solitude. She had not seen Randolph, who had called to her that he was leaving her breakfast on the fire. If anything she was more stiff and sore than ever, but the pangs wore off more quickly with the use of her muscles. About noon she began to feel relief.

She simply could not get over Randolph leaving her to her own devices. Beckyshibeta was more to him than she was. That both irritated and pleased Janey. But of course she would not stand for it. So she set out to hunt him up.

The day was lovely, although when she emerged into full sunshine, which was seldom, it was hot. The fragrant smells of summer wafted down into the canyon, mingling the sweetness of sage with wild flowers and fresh green verdure. The creek had run down and was no longer a roaring torrent. Janey thought she could wade in it if she wanted to. It would have been nothing for a horse.

When she walked away from camp under these magnificent walls, she became somebody else. She grew pensive, dreamy, absorbed and happy. No use to deny her feelings! Only she did not want Randolph to see them. A confusing thing, too, was the fact that under their spell she had to force herself to be true to her old inclinations. Therefore she refused to realize, or at least to seek to understand, the elevating power of this strange canyon wilderness. She could not help sensation. She had to see, to feel, to smell the place, and even to taste the sweetness of the dry desert air.

By the time she had worked her way round the second jutting wall, where Randolph had been digging, she was warmed by the exertion and free of stiff joints. In truth she felt fine. Randolph had abandoned this cavern. So Janey went on, to encounter the most difficult and hazardous climbing over rocks that the kidnaping escapade had led her to.. There was a thrill in it. How gratified she felt to surmount the last rock pile! She discerned Randolph about on a level with her. But the canyon jumped off deep below him and zigzagged in wonderful hair-raising ledges beyond.

Randolph did not see Janey. She had opportunity to approach him by way of a dangerous ledge before he would be aware of her presence. High places did not bother Janey. She was level-headed and cool, and reveled in taking risks.

When she got about halfway to him, however, she had to halt. She was getting in trouble and faced inclines that made even a girl of her bravery quail. So she sank down to rest and gaze.

The canyon opened wide. It was much vaster and wilder than that part of Beckyshibeta where Randolph had pitched the camp. Janey felt something pull at her heartstrings. Was not this desert fastness simply marvelous? But to look down now made her shiver. She had been aware of the gradual height she had attained. Below, a hundred feet or more, spread a slope of talus, a jumble of broken rock that fell roughly down to the green thicket. She almost forgot Randolph and her mission in a realizing worship.

Randolph's pick, ringing steel on stone, brought Janey back. She discovered a ledge above her where no doubt Randolph had crossed to the wide area beyond. Coming to a narrowed point, she got on hands and knees, and began to crawl out. She knocked some loose rocks off the ledge. They rattled down. Janey swore. Randolph heard the rattling and turned to look up.

Flinging aside his pick he ran forward to the end of the bench.

"Stop!" he shouted.

Janey obeyed, more from suggestion than anything else. She gazed across the void at Randolph.

"Howdy, Phil," she called, gaily. "Didn't I tell you not to follow me?" he said, angrily.

"I don't remember."

"Yes you do."

"All right, then I do."

"You turn round very carefully and go back," he ordered. "Be careful... You'll turn my hair gray!"

"That'd make you very handsome and distinguished looking," replied Janey.

"Go back!" he shouted, sternly.

"Not on your life!" retorted Janey, and started to crawl again. She was approaching the narrowed part. It might have daunted her before, but now she could have managed a more hazardous place.

"Stop! Turn back!" thundered Randolph. This was pouring oil upon the flame. "You go to the devil!" cried Janey, and kept on crawling. She passed the risky point without a tremor or a slip, and presently, reaching the bench, she stood up before Randolph in cool triumph.

"If you do that again, I'll I'll--" he choked.

"That was a cinch," replied Janey, coolly. "My stockings are thin, though, and the rock hurt my knees."