XXI. Mescal

by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

　　SUMMER gleams of golden sunshine swam under the glistening red walls ofthe oasis. Shadows from white clouds, like sails on a deep-blue sea,darkened the broad fields of alfalfa. Circling columns of smoke werewafted far above the cottonwoods and floated in the still air. Thedesert-red color of Navajo blankets brightened the grove.

　　Half-naked bronze Indians lolled in the shade, lounged on the cabinporches and stood about the sunny glade in idle groups. They wore thedress of peace. A single black-tipped white eagle feather waved abovethe band binding each black head. They watched the merry children tumbleround the playground. Silvermane browsed where he listed under the shadytrees, and many a sinewy red hand caressed his flowing mane. Black Bollyneighed her jealous displeasure from the corral, and the other mustangstrampled and kicked and whistled defiance across the bars. The peacockspreened their gorgeous plumage and uttered their clarion calls. Thebelligerent turkey-gobblers sidled about ruffling their feathers. Theblackbirds and swallows sang and twittered their happiness to find oldnests in the branches and under the eaves. Over all boomed the dull roarof the Colorado in flood.

　　It was the morning of Mescal's wedding-day.

　　August Naab, for once without a task, sat astride a peeled log ofdriftwood in the lane, and Hare stood beside him.

　　"Five thousand steers, lad! Why do you refuse them? They're worth tendollars a head to-day in Salt Lake City. A good start for a young man."

　　"No, I'm still in your debt."

　　"Then share alike with my sons in work and profit?"

　　"Yes, I can accept that."

　　"Good! Jack, I see happiness and prosperity for you. Do you rememberthat night on the White Sage trail? Ah! Well, the worst is over. Wecan look forward to better times. It's not likely the rustlers will rideinto Utah again. But this desert will never be free from strife."

　　"Tell me of Mescal," said Hare.

　　"Ah! Yes, I'm coming to that." Naab bent his head over the log andchipped off little pieces with his knife." Jack, will you come into theMormon Church?"

　　Long had Hare shrunk from this question which he felt must inevitablycome, and now he met it as bravely as he could, knowing he would pain hisfriend.

　　"No, August, I can't," he replied. "I feel--differently from Mormonsabout--about women. If it wasn't for that! I look upon you as a father.I'll do anything for you, except that. No one could pray to be a betterman than you. Your work, your religion, your life-- Why! I've no wordsto say what I feel. Teach me what little you can of them, August, butdon't ask me--that."

　　"Well, well," sighed Naab. The gray clearness of his eagle eyes grewshadowed and his worn face was sad. It was the look of a strong wise manwho seemed to hear doubt and failure knocking at the gate of his creed.But he loved life too well to be unhappy; he saw it too clearly not toknow there was nothing wholly good, wholly perfect, wholly without error.The shade passed from his face like the cloud-shadow from the sunlitlane.

　　"You ask about Mescal," he mused. "There's little more to tell."

　　"But her father--can you tell me more of him?"

　　"Little more than I've already told. He was evidently a man of somerank. I suspected that he ruined his life and became an adventurer. Hishealth was shattered when I brought him here, but he got well after ayear or so. He was a splendid, handsome fellow. He spoke very seldomand I don't remember ever seeing him smile. His favorite walk was theriver trail. I came upon him there one day, and found him dying. Heasked me to have a care of Mescal. And he died muttering a Spanish word,a woman's name, I think."

　　"I'll cherish Mescal the more," said Hare.

　　"Cherish her, yes. My Bible will this day give her a name. We know shehas the blood of a great chief. Beautiful she is and good. I raised herfor the Mormon Church, but God disposes after all, and I--"

　　A shrill screeching sound split the warm stillness, the long-drawn-outbray of a burro.

　　"Jack, look down the lane. If it isn't Noddle!"

　　Under the shady line of the red wall a little gray burro came trottingleisurely along with one long brown ear standing straight up, the otherhanging down over his nose.

　　"By George! it's Noddle!" exclaimed Hare. "He's climbed out of thecanyon. Won't this please Mescal?"

　　"Hey, Mother Mary," called Naab toward the cabin. "Send Mescal out.Here's a wedding-present."

　　With laughing wonder the women-folk flocked out into the yard. Mescalhung back shy-eyed, roses dyeing the brown of her cheeks.

　　"Mescal's wedding-present from Thunder River. Just arrived!" called Naabcheerily, yet deep-voiced with the happiness he knew the tidings wouldgive. "A dusty, dirty, shaggy, starved, lop-eared, lazy burro--Noddle!"

　　Mescal flew out into the lane, and with a strange broken cry of joy thatwas half a sob she fell upon her knees and clasped the little burro'sneck. Noddle wearily flapped his long brown ears, wearily nodded hiswhite nose; then evidently considering the incident closed, he wentlazily to sleep.

　　"Noddle! dear old Noddle!" murmured Mescal, with far-seeing,thought-mirroring eyes. "For you to come back to-day from our canyon!. . . Oh! The long dark nights with the thunder of the river and the lonelyvoices! . . . they come back to me. . . . Wolf, Wolf, here's Noddle, the samefaithful old Noddle!"

　　August Naab married Mescal and Hare at noon under the shade of thecottonwoods. Eschtah, magnificent in robes of state, stood up with them.The many members of Naab's family and the grave Navajos formed anattentive circle around them. The ceremony was brief. At its close theMormon lifted his face and arms in characteristic invocation.

　　"Almighty God, we entreat Thy blessing upon this marriage. Many andinscrutable are Thy ways; strange are the workings of Thy will; wondrousthe purpose with which Thou hast brought this man and this womantogether. Watch over them in the new path they are to tread, help themin the trials to come; and in Thy good time, when they have reached thefulness of days, when they have known the joy of life and rendered theirservice, gather them to Thy bosom in that eternal home where we all prayto meet Thy chosen ones of good; yea, and the evil ones purified in Thymercy. Amen."

　　Happy congratulations of the Mormon family, a merry romp of childrenflinging flowers, marriage-dance of singing Navajos--these, with thefeast spread under the cottonwoods, filled the warm noon-hours of theday.

　　Then the chief Eschtah raised his lofty form, and turned his eyes uponthe bride and groom.

　　"Eschtah's hundred summers smile in the face of youth. The arm of theWhite Chief is strong; the kiss of the Flower of the Desert is sweet.Let Mescal and Jack rest their heads on one pillow, and sleep under thetrees, and chant when the dawn brightens in the east. Out of his wiseyears the Navajo bids them love while they may. Daughter of my race,take the blessing of the Navajo."

　　Jack lifted Mescal upon Black Bolly and mounted Silvermane. Piutegrinned till he shook his earrings and started the pack burros toward theplateau trail. Wolf pattered on before, turning his white head,impatient of delay. Amid tears and waving of hands and cheers they beganthe zigzag ascent.

　　When they reached the old camp on the plateau the sun was setting behindthe Painted Desert. With hands closely interwoven they watched the colorfade and the mustering of purple shadows.

　　Twilight fell. Piute raked the red coals from the glowing centre of thecamp-fire. Wolf crouched all his long white length, his sharp nose onhis paws, watching Mescal. Hare watched her, too. The night shone inher eyes, the light of the fire, the old brooding mystic desert-spirit,and something more. The thump of Silvermane's hobbled hoofs was heard inthe darkness; Bolly's bell jangled musically. The sheep were bleating.A lonesome coyote barked. The white stars blinked out of the blue andthe night breeze whispered softly among the cedars.