Nevada (1995) (17 page)

"I know now why the boys call them broomies," Hettie told he
r
mother. "Most of them have tails like brooms. Wild, ragged
,
scrawny horses! Yet some are sleek and graceful, long of tail an
d
mane. And now and then I can pick out a beauty."

"I don't want to see any wild horses," replied Mrs. Ide. "I hop
e
there'll be none where we settle down to ranch."

At times, on level plains or down long slopes, Hettie could see ho
w
Ben and the riders had almost to fight off wild stallions. Ho
w
California Red glistened in the sunlight! He was in his elemen
t
with the scent of his kind in his nostrils. Sometimes a piercin
g
whistle floated back to Hettie.

The day passed as if it had flown, and Hettie recorded in memor
y
pictures of lone stallions, and stragglers and strings and herds o
f
wild horses numbering into the thousands. That night, far into th
e
late hours, Hettie heard Ben's riders yelling and shooting
,
galloping in and out of camp. It was a hard night for them.

More wild-horse days, as Ben called them, passed and were added t
o
the weeks. Then the colored rock walls of Utah rose above the lon
g
slopes of sage and greasewood.

Marysville at last! The Mormon town, far over the border int
o
Utah, had been a Mecca for the riders. Here on the outskirt
s
horses were rested, wagons were repaired, supplies were bought, an
d
much-needed information secured.

"Yes, you can cross over into Arizona," an old Mormon told Ben i
n
Hettie's hearing, while his keen eyes, like blue lightning, flashe
d
over her. "Good road to Lund an' Kanab. Then you cross into th
e
land of cliffs an' canyons. An' from there it's slow travel.

Vermilion Cliffs, Buckskin, Rock House Valley, under the Pari
a
Plateau, an' so on, down the Lee's Ferry an' the Canyon. When yo
u
reach there, stranger, you'll want to turn back. Better abide her
e
with us, in this desert we've made blossom."

Hettie liked the black-hooded Mormon women, though she pitied them
,
and the unseen sealed wives the riders whispered about. Th
e
healthy happy children were most lovable. But when she saw the ol
d
white-bearded Mormons or the tall, still-faced, fire-eyed sons, sh
e
wanted to run back to the covert of her tent.

Then on again, rolling downgrade over a hard desert road, eating u
p
the miles, the Ide caravan traveled, descending league-long slope
s
of red earth and green growths, with the red cliff walls keepin
g
pace with them, and ever rising higher, as they wandered on dow
n
into the dim-hazed marvelous region of canyons.

Kanab was a lonesome Mormon settlement close to the Arizona line.

Its white church stood out against the green background; orchard
s
and fields encompassed log cabins and stone houses; irrigatio
n
ditches bordered the road on both sides. The sun smiled upon th
e
fertile spot.

Arizona at last! Early the next morning Hettie heard that pealin
g
slogan from Ben's lusty throat. What magic in a name! But as sh
e
gazed down the green-and-red hollow, thirty miles that looked lik
e
only three, up the purpling slope to the black fringe of Buckski
n
Plateau, where it flowed like a river of trees that merged into
a
lake of forests, and on to the grandly-looming Vermilion Cliffs
,
she marveled no more at the enchantment of that name. One lon
g
breathless look won Hettie Ide forever. After all the weeks o
f
travel, the training of eye, the judgment of color and distance
,
she was confounded here on the border of Arizona.

"Oh, Ben," she called, "let us stop here!"

But Ben rode far ahead, ever thoughtful of his beloved horses.

Hettie could see him gaze away down the wonderful valley toward th
e
dim obscurity of the rock-walled fastnesses and again up at th
e
vast frowning front of Buckskin.

At sunset the riders halted to camp in the edge of the pines, fa
r
above the valley which it had taken all day to cross. It had to b
e
a dry camp, but the horses had been watered below. Hettie stoo
d
under the last pines and faced the west. She could not tell wha
t
it was that she saw. A glory of gold and purple cloud overhung
a
region of red rock, distant, broken, carved, where a lilac haze i
n
transparent veils and rays spread from the sinking sun. She looke
d
through that haze into an obscurity baffling and compelling, wher
e
shadows might be mountains and the purple depths beyond conception.

Then, as the pageant failed and faded, leaving her with a pang o
f
regret, as if she had suffered actual loss, she turned to th
e
forest and the camp. What magnificent pines! Black squirrels wit
h
white tails scurried over the brown-matted, bluebell-dotted ground.

Marvie was to be seen prowling from tree to tree with his rifle.

After so many camps on the desert, wide and open and windy, wher
e
camp fires were meager, and there was neither friendliness no
r
intimacy, how wonderful this temporary stand in the forest! Hetti
e
had difficulty drawing her breath and the tang of pine seemed t
o
clog her nostrils. Ben whistled as he brushed and combed hi
s
horse; the riders sang as they came in with bridles and nosebags o
n
their arms; little Blaine, now like an Indian, gamboled about, an
d
Mrs. Ide, as always, was bustling around the camp fire. Ina seeme
d
busy at the back of her wagon. Hettie imagined they were nomads
,
gypsies on the march.

"Supper," sang out Mrs. Ide, cheerily.

"Come an' git it!" yelled Hank as if to outcall her.

"Marvie!" called Ben. His deep voice peeled down through th
e
darkening aisles of the forest.

That night Hettie sought her bed early, exhausted in mind and body.

But she did not at once fall asleep. Packs of coyotes surrounde
d
the camp and kept up a continual howling, yelping, barking
,
whining. But what a wild, satisfying medley! Back on Tule Lake i
t
had been an event for Hettie to hear one lonesome coyote, far of
f
on the hills. On Buckskin Plateau it appeared the coyotes wer
e
many and bold. She was sure several ventured close to her wagon.

At length they gradually worked away, until their wails and mourn
s
died in the deep forest.

Hettie imagined she had prepared herself for Arizona. But nex
t
day, when riding horseback for a change, she emerged from the pine
s
to the edge of the plateau, she was unable even to give an echo o
f
Ben's stentorian long-drawn "WHOOPEE!"

Wild, beautiful, majestic, zigzagged the Vermilion Cliffs, towerin
g
over another and the vastly greater valley, softly, deeply purple
,
and sweeping away, widening like a colossal fan, out to the desert
,
where a ragged rent in the earth, tremendous and awe-inspiring
,
told Hettie she was gazing at the Grand Canyon.

From that moment time seemed to cease for Hettie Ide. She let he
r
horse follow the leaders, and rode down and down, where neithe
r
dust nor heat meant aught to her. The purple valley yawned an
d
seemed to swallow her. Lost was the sweep of the range and tha
t
fascinating rent in the desert. The red wall towered on the left
,
and on the right mounted the gray-sloped black-fringed plateau.

Over the purple sage-flat strung out the cavalcade, hour afte
r
hour, until another sunset halted the weary travelers in a grass-
g
reen basin, where water salt to the taste wound its gleamin
g
musical way.

"Two more days, folks, and then the Rubicon!" called out Ben
,
prayerfully, yet gayly.

"Wal, boss, what may thet there Rubicon be?" asked Raidy as h
e
wiped his grimy face.

"Lee's Ferry, man, where we cross the Colorado--if we ever do."

"Son, we ain't crossin' any Rubies or ferries till we come t
o
them," relied Raidy. "I'm thinkin' luck is with this Ide outfit."

"Not a horse lost yet, not a wheel slipped," returned Ben, throwin
g
up his head, like a lion tossing its mane.

"Wal, we ain't met any hoss thieves yet, or real bad roads. Bu
t
the Mormons say wait till we hit across the canyon."

On the morrow, up out of the valley they climbed, like snails; u
p
out of the green to the dragging sand, and toiled on ever neare
r
and nearer the grand jutting corner of the red cliff that hid th
e
desert beyond.

But at last they rode round under this colossal wall, and Hetti
e
Ide gasped. Desolation and ruin of earth seemed flung in her face.

Splintered and tumbled wall of red wound down to a notch where th
e
sinister red river broke through; and on the other side, anothe
r
wall as red and ghastly, and lifting its rent and riven front hig
h
to serrated crags, formed the far side of that great Y-shape
d
pocket of the desert. No eye-soothing greens softened the glarin
g
red and yellow. It was a pit of hell, from which the river gleame
d
through the split at the apex of the notch.

The sun beat down terribly hot. The red dust rose in clouds. Eve
r
lifted the vast overhanging bulge of the plateau, from the ruins o
f
which countless avalanches had crushed down, to litter the whol
e
slope between wall and river with myriads of rocks, huge, sand- an
d
wind-worn into grotesque shapes, adding to the ghastliness of thi
s
inferno.

Here the wagons crept along on slow-creaking wheels; here th
e
horses lagged and the riders sagged in their saddles; here Hetti
e
closed her eyes to shut out the glare, the dreadful decay an
d
devastation, and the millions of glistening surfaces of rock, re
d
and redder as the red sun sank to rest.

But before the afternoon light failed the travelers rounded th
e
last corner of the wall, and Hettie opened her eyes upon a scen
e
that seemed one of enchantment.

A rich dark green oasis lay deep down under lofty precipitou
s
walls. On three sides these walls enclosed the oval acres o
f
green, and on the other the sullen river swept by, as sinister a
s
its surrounding confines, and slid swiftly on into the dark box-
l
ike canyon head, whence floated a bellowing roar of waters.

"Lee's Ferry," announced Raidy to the speechless onlookers. "An'
t
he river's low. I was afeared of meltin' snow up in th
e
mountains. There's the old scow we cross in. Wal, wal! if luc
k
ain't settin' right in the saddle of this Ide outfit!"