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The Light of the Western Stars. Zane Grey
Читать онлайн.Название The Light of the Western Stars
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isbn 4057664144164
Автор произведения Zane Grey
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
IV. A Ride From Sunrise To Sunset
Next morning, when Madeline was aroused by her brother, it was not yet daybreak; the air chilled her, and in the gray gloom she had to feel around for matches and lamp. Her usual languid manner vanished at a touch of the cold water. Presently, when Alfred knocked on her door and said he was leaving a pitcher of hot water outside, she replied, with chattering teeth, “Th-thank y-you, b-but I d-don't ne-need any now.” She found it necessary, however, to warm her numb fingers before she could fasten hooks and buttons. And when she was dressed she marked in the dim mirror that there were tinges of red in her cheeks.
“Well, if I haven't some color!” she exclaimed.
Breakfast waited for her in the dining-room. The sisters ate with her. Madeline quickly caught the feeling of brisk action that seemed to be in the air. From the back of the house sounded the tramp of boots and voices of men, and from outside came a dull thump of hoofs, the rattle of harness, and creak of wheels. Then Alfred came stamping in.
“Majesty, here's where you get the real thing,” he announced, merrily. “We're rushing you off, I'm sorry to say; but we must hustle back to the ranch. The fall round-up begins to-morrow. You will ride in the buck-board with Florence and Stillwell. I'll ride on ahead with the boys and fix up a little for you at the ranch. Your baggage will follow, but won't get there till to-morrow sometime. It's a long ride out—nearly fifty miles by wagon-road. Flo, don't forget a couple of robes. Wrap her up well. And hustle getting ready. We're waiting.”
A little later, when Madeline went out with Florence, the gray gloom was lightening. Horses were champing bits and pounding gravel.
“Mawnin', Miss Majesty,” said Stillwell, gruffly, from the front seat of a high vehicle.
Alfred bundled her up into the back seat, and Florence after her, and wrapped them with robes. Then he mounted his horse and started off. “Gid-eb!” growled Stillwell, and with a crack of his whip the team jumped into a trot. Florence whispered into Madeline's ear:
“Bill's grouchy early in the mawnin'. He'll thaw out soon as it gets warm.”
It was still so gray that Madeline could not distinguish objects at any considerable distance, and she left El Cajon without knowing what the town really looked like. She did know that she was glad to get out of it, and found an easier task of dispelling persistent haunting memory.
“Here come the cowboys,” said Florence.
A line of horsemen appeared coming from the right and fell in behind Alfred, and gradually they drew ahead, to disappear from sight. While Madeline watched them the gray gloom lightened into dawn. All about her was bare and dark; the horizon seemed close; not a hill nor a tree broke the monotony. The ground appeared to be flat, but the road went up and down over little ridges. Madeline glanced backward in the direction of El Cajon and the mountains she had seen the day before, and she saw only bare and dark ground, like that which rolled before.
A puff of cold wind struck her face and she shivered. Florence noticed her and pulled up the second robe and tucked it closely round her up to her chin.
“If we have a little wind you'll sure feel it,” said the Western girl.
Madeline replied that she already felt it. The wind appeared to penetrate the robes. It was cold, pure, nipping. It was so thin she had to breathe as fast as if she were under ordinary exertion. It hurt her nose and made her lungs ache.
“Aren't you co-cold?” asked Madeline.
“I?” Florence laughed. “I'm used to it. I never get cold.”
The Western girl sat with ungloved hands on the outside of the robe she evidently did not need to draw up around her. Madeline thought she had never seen such a clear-eyed, healthy, splendid girl.
“Do you like to see the sun rise?” asked Florence.
“Yes, I think I do,” replied Madeline, thoughtfully. “Frankly, I have not seen it for years.”
“We have beautiful sunrises, and sunsets from the ranch are glorious.”
Long lines of pink fire ran level with the eastern horizon, which appeared to recede as day brightened. A bank of thin, fleecy clouds was turning rose. To the south and west the sky was dark; but every moment it changed, the blue turning bluer. The eastern sky was opalescent. Then in one place gathered a golden light, and slowly concentrated till it was like fire. The rosy bank of cloud turned to silver and pearl, and behind it shot up a great circle of gold. Above the dark horizon gleamed an intensely bright disk. It was the sun. It rose swiftly, blazing out the darkness between the ridges and giving color and distance to the sweep of land.
“Wal, wal,” drawled Stillwell, and stretched his huge arms as if he had just awakened, “thet's somethin' like.”
Florence nudged Madeline and winked at her.
“Fine mawnin', girls,” went on old Bill, cracking his whip. “Miss Majesty, it'll be some oninterestin' ride all mawnin'. But when we get up a bit you'll sure like it. There! Look to the southwest, jest over thet farthest ridge.”
Madeline swept her gaze along the gray, sloping horizon-line to where dark-blue spires rose far beyond the ridge.
“Peloncillo Mountains,” said Stillwell. “Thet's home, when we get there. We won't see no more of them till afternoon, when they rise up sudden-like.”
Peloncillo! Madeline murmured the melodious name. Where had she heard it? Then she remembered. The cowboy Stewart had told the little Mexican girl Bonita to “hit the Peloncillo trail.” Probably the girl had ridden the big, dark horse over this very road at night, alone. Madeline had a little shiver that was not occasioned by the cold wind.
“There's a jack!” cried Florence, suddenly.
Madeline saw her first jack-rabbit. It was as large as a dog, and its ears were enormous. It appeared to be impudently tame, and the horses kicked dust over it as they trotted by. From then on old Bill and Florence vied with each other in calling Madeline's attention to many things along the way. Coyotes stealing away into the brush; buzzards flapping over the carcass of a cow that had been mired in a wash; queer little lizards running swiftly across the road; cattle grazing in the hollows; adobe huts of Mexican herders; wild, shaggy horses, with heads high, watching from the gray ridges—all these things Madeline looked at, indifferently at first, because indifference had become habitual with her, and then with an interest that flourished up and insensibly grew as she rode on. It grew until sight of a little ragged Mexican boy astride the most diminutive burro she had ever seen awakened her to the truth. She became conscious of faint, unmistakable awakening of long-dead feelings—enthusiasm and delight. When she realized that, she breathed deep of the cold, sharp air and experienced an inward joy. And she divined then, though she did not know why, that henceforth there was to be something new in her life, something she had never felt before, something good for her soul in the homely, the commonplace, the natural, and the wild.
Meanwhile, as Madeline gazed about her and listened to her companions, the sun rose higher and grew warm and soared and grew hot; the horses held tirelessly to their steady trot, and mile after mile of rolling land slipped by.
From the top of a ridge Madeline saw down into a hollow where a few of the cowboys had stopped and were sitting round a fire, evidently busy at the noonday meal. Their horses were feeding on the long, gray grass.
“Wal, smell of thet burnin' greasewood makes my mouth water,” said Stillwell. “I'm sure hungry. We'll noon hyar an' let the hosses rest. It's a long pull to the ranch.”
He halted near