Up the Gulch
"GO West?" sighed Kate. "Why, yes! I'd like to go West."She looked at the babies, who were playing on the floor with their father, andsighed again."You've got to go somewhere, you know,Kate. It might as well be west as in anyother direction. And this is such a chance!We can't have mamma lying around onsofas without any roses in her cheeks, canwe?" He put this last to the children,who, being yet at the age when they talkedin "Early English," as their father calledit, made a clamorous but inarticulate reply.Major Shelly, the grandfather of thesevery young persons, stroked his mustacheand looked indulgent."Show almost human intelligence, don'tthey?" said their father, as he lay flat onhis back and permitted the babies to climbover him."Ya-as," drawled the major. "They do.Don't see how you account for it, Jack."Jack roared, and the lips of the babiestrembled with fear.Their mother said nothing. She was onthe sofa, her hands lying inert, her eyesfixed on her rosy babies with an expressionwhich her father-in-law and her husbandtried hard not to notice.It was not easy to tell why Kate wasailing. Of course, the babies were young,but there were other reasons."I believe you're too happy," Jack sometimes said to her. "Try not to be quite sohappy, Kate. At least, try not to takeyour happiness so seriously. Please don'tadore me so; I'm only a commonplacefellow. And the babies -- they're notgoing to blow away."But Kate continued to look with intenseeyes at her little world, and to draw intoit with loving and generous hands all whowere willing to come."Kate is just like a kite," Jack explainedto his father, the major; "she can't keepafloat without just so many bobs."Kate's "bobs" were the unfortunates shecollected around her. These absorbed herstrength. She felt their misery with sympathies that were abnormal. The verylaborer in the streets felt his toil lesskeenly than she, as she watched the dropsgather on his brow."Is life worth keeping at the cost of alot like that?" she would ask. She feltashamed of her own ease. She apologizedfor her own serene and perfect happiness.She even felt sorry for those mothers whohad not children as radiantly beautiful asher own."Kate must have a change," the majorhad given out. He was going West onbusiness and insisted on taking her withhim. Jack looked doubtful. He wasn'tsure how he would get along without Kateto look after everything. Secretly, he hadan idea that servants were a kind of wildanimal that had to be fed by an experiencedkeeper. But when the time came, he kissedher good-by in as jocular a manner as hecould summon, and refused to see the tearsthat gathered in her eyes.Until Chicago was reached, there wasnothing very different from that whichKate had been in the habit of seeing.After that, she set herself to watch forWestern characteristics. She felt that shewould know them as soon as she saw them."I expected to be stirred up and shocked,"she explained to the major. But somehow,the Western type did not appear. Commonplace women with worn faces -- brownedand seamed, though not aged -- were atthe stations, waiting for something or someone. Men with a hurried, nervous airwere everywhere. Kate looked in vain forthe gayety and heartiness which she hadalways associated with the West.After they got beyond the timber countryand rode hour after hour on a tract smoothas a becalmed ocean, she gave herself up tothe feeling of immeasurable vastness whichtook possession of her. The sun rolled outof the sky into oblivion with a frantic, headlong haste. Nothing softened the aspectof its wrath. Near, red, familiar, it seemedto visibly bowl along the heavens. In themorning it rose as baldly as it had set.And back and forth over the awful plainblew the winds, -- blew from east to westand back again, strong as if fresh from thechambers of their birth, full of elementalscents and of mighty murmurings."This is the West!" Kate cried, againand again.The major listened to her unsmilingly.It always seemed to him a waste of muscular energy to smile. He did not talk much.Conversation had never appealed to him inthe light of an art. He spoke when therewas a direction or a command to be given,or an inquiry to be made. The major, ifthe truth must be known, was material.Things that he could taste, touch, see,appealed to him. He had been a volunteerin the civil war, -- a volunteer with a goodrecord, -- which he never mentioned; and,having acquitted himself decently, let thematter go without asking reprisal or payment for what he had freely given. Hewent into business and sold cereal foods."I believe in useful things," the majorexpressed himself. "Oatmeal, wheat, --men have to have them. God intendedthey should. There's Jack -- my son --Jack Shelly -- lawyer. What's the use oflitigation? God didn't design litigation.It doesn't do anybody any good. It isn'tjustice you get. It's something entirelydifferent, -- a verdict according to law.They say Jack's clever. But I'm mightyglad I sell wheat."He didn't sell it as a speculator, however. That wasn't his way."I earn what I make," he often said; andhe had grown rich in the selling of hiswholesome foods.. . . . . . .Helena lies among round, brown hills.Above it is a sky of deep and illimitableblue. In the streets are crumbs of gold,but it no longer pays to mine for these;because, as real estate, the property is morevaluable. It is a place of fictitious values.There is excitement in the air. Men havethe faces of speculators. Every laborer ispatient at his task because he cherishes ahope that some day he will be a millionnaire. There is hospitality, and cordialityand good fellowship, and an undeniabledemocracy. There is wealth and luxuriousliving. There is even culture, -- but it isobtruded as a sort of novelty; it is notaccepted as a matter of course.Kate and the major were driven over twoor three miles of dusty, hard road to a distant hotel, which stands in the midst ofgreenness, -- in an oasis. Immediatelyabove the green sward that surrounds it thebrown hills rise, the grass scorched by thesun.Kate yielded herself to the almost absurdluxury of the place with ease and complacency. She took kindly to the great verandas. She adapted herself to the elaborateand ill-assorted meals. She bathed in themarvellous pool, warm with the heat ofeternal fires in mid-earth. This pool wascovered with a picturesque Moorish structure, and at one end a cascade tumbled, overwhich the sun, coming through colored windows, made a mimic prism in the whitespray. The life was not unendurable. Themajor was seldom with her, being obligedto go about his business; and Kate amusedherself by driving over the hills, by watching the inhabitants, by wondering about thelives in the great, pretentious, unhomelikehouses with their treeless yards and theirclosed shutters. The sunlight, white asthe glare on Arabian sands, penetratedeverywhere. It seemed to fairly scorch theeye-balls."Oh, we're West, now," Kate said, exultantly. "I've seen a thousand types. Butyet -- not quite THE type -- not the impersonation of simplicity and daring that I waslooking for."The major didn't know quite what shewas talking about. But he acquiesced.All he cared about was to see her growstronger; and that she was doing every day.She was growing amazingly lovely, too, --at least the major thought so. Every onelooked at her; but that was, perhaps, because she was such a sylph of a woman.Beside the stalwart major, she looked like afairy princess.One day she suddenly realized the factthat she had had a companion on theveranda for several mornings. Of course,there were a great many persons -- invalids,largely -- sitting about, but one of themhad been obtruding himself persistentlyinto her consciousness. It was not that hewas rude; it was only that he was thinkingabout her. A person with a temperamentlike Kate's could not long be oblivious to athing like that; and she furtively observedthe offender with that genius for psychological perception which was at once hergreatest danger and her charm.The man was dressed with a childishattempt at display. His shirt-front wasdecorated with a diamond, and his cuffbuttons were of onyx with diamond settings.His clothes were expensive and perceptiblynew, and he often changed his costumes,but with a noticeable disregard for propriety. He was very conscious of his silkhat, and frequently wiped it with a handkerchief on which his monogram was workedin blue.When the 'busses brought up their loads,he was always on hand to watch the newcomers. He took a long time at his dinners, and appeared to order a great deal andeat very little. There were card-rooms anda billiard-hall, not to mention a bowling-alley and a tennis-court, where the otherguests of the hotel spent much time. Butthis man never visited them. He sat oftenwith one of the late reviews in his hand,looking as if he intended giving his attention to it at any moment. But after he hadscrupulously cut the leaves with a littlecarved ivory paper-cutter, he sat staringstraight before him with the book open, butunread, in his hand.Kate took more interest in this melancholy, middle-aged man than she wouldhave done if she had not been on the outlook for her Western type, -- the man whowas to combine all the qualities of chivalry,daring, bombast, and generosity, seasonedwith piquant grammar, which she firmlybelieved to be the real thing. But notwithstanding this kindly and somewhat curiousinterest, she might never have made hisacquaintance if it had not been for a ratherunpleasant adventure.The major was "closing up a deal" andhad hurried away after breakfast, and Kate,in the luxury of convalescence, half-reclinedin a great chair on the veranda and watchedthe dusky blue mist twining itself aroundthe brown hills. She was not thinkingof the babies; she was not worrying abouthome; she was not longing for anything, oreven indulging in a dream. That vacuouscontent which engrosses the body after longindisposition, held her imperatively. Suddenly she was aroused from this happy condition of nothingness by the spectacle ofan enormous bull-dog approaching her withthreatening teeth. She had noticed themonster often in his kennel near the stables, and it was well understood that he wasnever to be permitted his freedom. Now hewalked toward her with a solid step and analarming deliberateness. Kate sat still andtried to assure herself that he meant no mischief, but by the time the great body hadmade itself felt on the skirt of her gown shecould restrain her fear no longer, and gavea nervous cry of alarm. The brute answeredwith a growl. If he had lacked provocationbefore, he considered that he had it now.He showed his teeth and flung his detestablebody upon her; and Kate felt herself growing dizzy with fear. But just then an armwas interposed and the dog was flung back.There was a momentary struggle. Somegentlemen came hurrying out of the office;and as they beat the dog back to its retreat,Kate summoned words from her parchedthroat to thank her benefactor.It was the melancholy man with the newclothes. This morning he was dressed ina suit of the lightest gray, with a whitemarseilles waistcoat, over which his glittering chain shone ostentatiously. Whitetennis-shoes, a white rose in his buttonhole, and a white straw hat in his hand completed a toilet over which much time hadevidently been spent. Kate noted thesedetails as she held out her hand."I may have been alarmed without cause,"she said; "but I was horribly frightened.Thank you so much for coming to my rescue. And I think, if you would add to yourkindness by getting me a glass of water --"When he came back, his hand was trembling a little; and as Kate looked up tolearn the cause, she saw that his face wasflushed. He was embarrassed. She decidedthat he was not accustomed to the societyof ladies. "Brutes like that dog ain't noplace in th' world -- that's my opinion.There are some bad things we can't helphavin' aroun'; but a bull-dog ain't oneof 'em.""I quite agree with you," Kate acquiesced, as she drank the water. "But asthis is the first unpleasant experience ofany kind that I have had since I camehere, I don't feel that I have any right tocomplain.""You're here fur yur health?""Yes. And I am getting it. You'renot an invalid, I imagine?""No -- no-op. I'm here be -- well, I'vethought fur a long time I'd like t' stay atthis here hotel.""Indeed!""Yes. I've been up th' gulch these fifteen years. Bin livin' on a shelf of black rock.Th' sun got 'round 'bout ten. Couldn'tmake a thing grow." The man was looking off toward the hills, with an expressionof deep sadness in his eyes. "Didn'tnever live in a place where nothin' 'dgrow, did you? I took geraniums up thartime an' time agin. Red ones. Made methink of mother; she's in Germany. Watered'em mornin' an' night. Th' damned thingsdied."The oath slipped out with an artless unconsciousness, and there was a little moisture in his eyes. Kate felt she ought tobring the conversation to a close. Shewondered what Jack would say if he sawher talking with a perfect stranger who usedoaths! She would have gone into the housebut for something that caught her eye. Itwas the hand of the man; that hand wasa bludgeon. All grace and flexibility hadgone out of it, and it had become a mereinstrument of toil. It was seamed andmisshapen; yet it had been carefully manicured, and the pointed nails looked fantasticand animal-like. A great seal-ring bore anelaborate monogram, while the little fingerdisplayed a collection of diamonds andemeralds truly dazzling to behold. Animpulse of humanity and a sort of artisticcuriosity, much stronger than her discretion,urged Kate to continue her conversation."What were you doing up the gulch?"she said.The man leaned back in his chair andregarded her a moment before answering.He realized the significance of her question.He took it as a sign that she was willingto be friendly. A look of gratitude, almosttender, sprang into his eyes, -- dull grayeyes, they were, with a kindliness for theironly recommendation."Makin' my pile," he replied. "I'vebeen in these parts twenty years. When Icome here, I thought I was goin' to make afortune right off. I had all th' money thatmother could give me, and I lost everything Ihad in three months. I went up th' gulch."He paused, and wiped his forehead with hishandkerchief.There was something in his remark and theintonation which made Kate say softly:"I suppose you've had a hard time of it.""Thar you were!" he cried. "Thar wasth' rock -- risin', risin', black! At th'bottom wus th' creek, howlin' day an'night! Lonesome! Gee! No one t' talkto. Of course, th' men. Had some withme always. They didn't talk. It's too --too quiet t' talk much. They played cards.Curious, but I never played cards. Don'tthink I'd find it amusin'. No, I worked.Came down here once in six months orthree months. Had t' come -- grub-stakedth' men, you know. Did you ever eat saltpork?" He turned to Kate suddenly withthis question."Why, yes; a few times. Did you haveit?""Nothin' else, much. I used t' think ofth' things mother cooked. Mother understood cookin', if ever a woman did. I'llnever forget th' dinner she gave me th' dayI came away. A woman ought t' cook. Ihear American women don't go in muchfor cookin'.""Oh, I think that's a mistake," Katehastened to interrupt. "All that I know understand how to serve excellent dinners. Ofcourse, they may not cook them themselves,but I think they could if it were necessary.""Hum!" He picked up a long glove thathad fallen from Kate's lap and fingered itbefore returning it."I s'pose you cook?""I make a specialty of salads and sorbets," smiled Kate. "I guess I could roastmeat and make bread; but circumstanceshave not yet compelled me to do it. ButI've a theory that an American woman cando anything she puts her mind to."The man laughed out loud, -- a laughquite out of proportion to the mild goodhumor of the remark; but it was evidentthat he could no longer conceal his delightat this companionship."How about raisin' flowers?" he asked."Are you strong on that?""I've only to look at a plant to makeit grow," Kate cried, with enthusiasm."When my friends are in despair over aplant, they bring it to me, and I just pet ita little, and it brightens up. I've the mostwonderful fernery you ever saw. It's green,summer and winter. Hundreds of peoplestop and look up at it, it is so green andenticing, there above the city streets.""What city?""Philadelphia.""Mother's jest that way. She has a garden of roses. And the mignonette --"But he broke off suddenly, and sat oncemore staring before him."But not a damned thing," he added, withpoetic pensiveness, "would grow in thatgulch.""Why did you stay there so long?" askedKate, after a little pause in which she managed to regain her waning courage."Bad luck. You never see a place withso many false leads. To-day you'd get astreak that looked big. To-morrow you'dfind it a pocket. One night I'd go t' bedwith my heart goin' like a race-horse.Next night it would be ploddin' along likea winded burro. Don't know what mademe stick t' it. It was hot there, too! Andcold! Always roastin' ur freezin'. It'dbeen different if I'd had any one t' help mestand it. But th' men were always findin'fault. They blamed me fur everythin'. Iused t' lie awake at night an' hear 'emtalkin' me over. It made me lonesome, Itell you! Thar wasn't no one! Motherused t' write. But I never told her th'truth. She ain't a suspicion of what I'vebeen a-goin' through."Kate sat and looked at him in silence.His face was seamed, though far from old.His body was awkward, but impressed herwith a sense of magnificent strength."I couldn't ask no woman t' share myhard times," he resumed after a time. "Ialways said when I got a woman, it wasgoin' t' be t' make her happy. It wer'n'tt' be t' ask her t' drudge."There was another silence. This manout of the solitude seemed to be elated pastexpression at his new companionship. Helooked with appreciation at the little pointedtoes of Kate's slippers, as they glanced frombelow the skirt of her dainty organdie. Henoted the band of pearls on her finger. Hiseyes rested long on the daisies at her waist.The wind tossed up little curls of her warmbrown hair. Her eyes suffused with interest, her tender mouth seemed ready to lenditself to any emotion, and withal she wasso small, so compact, so exquisite. Theman wiped his forehead again, in mereexuberance."Here's my card," he said, very solemnly,as he drew an engraved bit of pasteboardfrom its leather case. Kate bowed andtook it."Mr. Peter Roeder," she read."I've no card," she said. "My name isShelly. I'm here for my health, as I toldyou." She rose at this point, and held outher hand. "I must thank you once morefor your kindness," she said.His eyes fastened on hers with an appealfor a less formal word. There was somethingalmost terrible in their silent eloquence."I hope we may meet again," she said.Mr. Peter Roeder made a very low andawkward bow, and opened the door into thecorridor for her.That evening the major announced that hewas obliged to go to Seattle. The journeywas not an inviting one; Kate was wellplaced where she was, and he decided toleave her.She was well enough now to take longerdrives; and she found strange, lonely canyons, wild and beautiful, where yellowwaters burst through rocky barriers with roarand fury, -- tortuous, terrible places, suchas she had never dreamed of. Coming backfrom one of these drives, two days afterher conversation on the piazza with PeterRoeder, she met him riding a massive roan.He sat the animal with that air of perfectunconsciousness which is the attribute ofthe Western man, and his attire, even tohis English stock, was faultless, -- faultilyfaultless."I hope you won't object to havin' meride beside you," he said, wheeling hishorse. To tell the truth, Kate did notobject. She was a little dull, and had beenconscious all the morning of that peculiarphysical depression which marks the beginning of a fit of homesickness."The wind gits a fine sweep," saidRoeder, after having obtained the permission he desired. "Now in the gulch weeither had a dead stagnation, or else thewind was tearin' up and down like a wildbeast."Kate did not reply, and they went ontogether, facing the riotous wind."You can't guess how queer it seems t'be here," he said, confidentially. "It seemst' me as if I had come from some otherplanet. Thar don't rightly seem t' be noplace fur me. I tell you what it's like.It's as if I'd come down t' enlist in th'ranks, an' found 'em full, -- every manmarchin' along in his place, an' no placeleft fur me."Kate could not find a reply."I ain't a friend, -- not a friend! I ain'tcomplainin'. It ain't th' fault of any one-- but myself. You don' know what adurned fool I've bin. Someway, up thar inth' gulch I got t' seemin' so sort of important t' myself, and my makin' my stakeseemed such a big thing, that I thought Ihad only t' come down here t' Helena t'have folks want t' know me. I didn'tparticular want th' money because it wusmoney. But out here you work fur it, jestas you work fur other things in other places,-- jest because every one is workin' fur it,and it's the man who gets th' most thatbeats. It ain't that they are any moregreedy than men anywhere else. My pile'sa pretty good-sized one. An' it's likely tobe bigger; but no one else seems t' care.Th' paper printed some pieces about it.Some of th' men came round t' see me;but I saw their game. I said I guessedI'd look further fur my acquaintances. Iain't spoken to a lady, -- not a real lady,you know, -- t' talk with, friendly like, butyou, fur -- years."His face flushed in that sudden way again.They were passing some of those pretentious houses which rise in the midst ofHelena's ragged streets with such an extraneous air, and Kate leaned forward to lookat them. The driver, seeing her interest,drew up the horses for a moment."Fine, fine!" ejaculated Roeder. "Butthey ain't got no garden. A house don'tseem anythin' t' me without a garden.Do you know what I think would be th'most beautiful thing in th' world? Ababy in a rose-garden! Do you know, Iain't had a baby in my hands, excep' NedRamsey's little kid, once, for ten year!"Kate's face shone with sympathy."How dreadful!" she cried. "I couldn'tlive without a baby about.""Like babies, do you? Well, well.Boys? Like boys?""Not a bit better than girls," said Kate,stoutly."I like boys," responded Roeder, withconviction. "My mother liked boys. Shehad three girls, but she liked me a damnedsight the best."Kate laughed outright."Why do you swear?" she said. "Inever heard a man swear before, -- at least,not one with whom I was talking. That'sone of your gulch habits. You must getover it."Roeder's blond face turned scarlet."You must excuse me," he pleaded."I'll cure myself of it! Jest give me achance."This was a little more personal than Kateapproved of, and she raised her parasol toconceal her annoyance. It was a brilliantlittle fluff of a thing which looked as if itwere made of butterflies' wings. Roedertouched it with awe."You have sech beautiful things," hesaid. "I didn't know women wore sechnice things. Now that dress -- it's like-- I don't know what it's like." It was asimple little taffeta, with warp and woof ofazure and of cream, and gay knots of ribbonabout it."We have the advantage of men," shesaid. "I often think one of the greatestdrawbacks to being a man would be thesombre clothes. I like to wear the prettiestthings that can be found.""Lace?" queried Roeder. "Do you likelace?""I should say so! Did you ever see awoman who didn't?""Hu -- um! These women I've knowndon't know lace, -- these wives of th' menout here. They're th' only kind I've seenthis long time.""Oh, of course, but I mean --""I know what you mean. My mother hasa chest full of linen an' lace. She showedit t' me th' day I left. 'Peter,' she said,'some day you bring a wife home with you,an' I'll give you that lace an' that linen.'An' I'm goin' t' do it, too," he said quietly."I hope so," said Kate, with her eyesmoist. "I hope you will, and that yourmother will be very happy.". . . . . . .There was a hop at the hotel that night,and it was almost a matter of courtesy forKate to go. Ladies were in demand, forthere were not very many of them at thehotel. Every one was expected to do hisbest to make it a success; and Kate, not atall averse to a waltz or two, dressed herselffor the occasion with her habitual strivingafter artistic effect. She was one of thosewomen who make a picture of themselves asnaturally as a bird sings. She had an opalnecklace which Jack had given her because,he said, she had as many moods as an opalhad colors; and she wore this with a crépegown, the tint of the green lights in hernecklace. A box of flowers came for her asshe was dressing; they were Puritan roses,and Peter Roeder's card was in the midstof them. She was used to having flowersgiven her. It would have seemed remarkable if some one had not sent her a bouquetwhen she was going to a ball."I shall dance but twice," she said tothose who sought her for a partner."Neither more nor less.""Ain't you goin' t' dance with me atall?" Roeder managed to say to her in themidst of her laughing altercation with thegentlemen."Dance with you!" cried Kate. "Howdo men learn to dance when they are up agulch?""I ken dance," he said stubbornly. Hewas mortified at her chaffing."Then you may have the second waltz, "she said, in quick contrition. "Now youother gentlemen have been dancing anynumber of times these last fifteen years.But Mr. Roeder is just back from a hardcampaign, -- a campaign against fate. Mysecond waltz is his. And I shall dance mybest."It happened to be just the right sort ofspeech. The women tried good-naturedlyto make Roeder's evening a pleasant one.They were filled with compassion for a manwho had not enjoyed the society of their sexfor fifteen years. They found much amusement in leading him through the squaredances, the forms of which were utterlyunknown to him. But he waltzed with asort of serious alertness that was not so badas it might have been.Kate danced well. Her slight bodyseemed as full of the spirit of the waltz asa thrush's body is of song. Peter Roedermoved along with her in a maze, only half-answering her questions, his gray eyes fullof mystery.Once they stopped for a moment, and helooked down at her, as with flushed face shestood smiling and waving her gossamer fan,each motion stirring the frail leaves of theroses he had sent her."It's cur'ous," he said softly, "but I keepthinkin' about that black gulch.""Forget it," she said. "Why do youthink of a gulch when --" She stoppedwith a sudden recollection that he was notused to persiflage. But he anticipated whatshe was about to say."Why think of the gulch when you arehere?" he said. "Why, because it is onlyth' gulch that seems real. All this, -- thesepleasant, polite people, this beautiful room,th' flowers everywhere, and you, and me asI am, seem as if I was dreamin'. Tharain't anything in it all that is like what Ithought it would be.""Not as you thought it would be?""No. Different. I thought it would be-- well, I thought th' people would not bequite so high-toned. I hope you don't mindthat word.""Not in the least," she said. " It's a musical term. It applies very well to people."They took up the dance again and waltzedbreathlessly till the close. Kate was tired;the exertion had been a little more than shehad bargained for. She sat very still on theveranda under the white glare of an electricball, and let Roeder do the talking. Herthoughts, in spite of the entertainment shewas deriving from her present experiences,would go back to the babies. She saw themtucked well in bed, each in a little iron crib,with the muslin curtains shielding their rosyfaces from the light. She wondered if Jackwere reading alone in the library or was atthe club, or perhaps at the summer concert, with the swell of the violins in hisears. Jack did so love music. As shethought how delicate his perceptions were,how he responded to everything most subtlein nature and in art, of how life itself wasa fine art with him, and joy a thing to becultivated, she turned with a sense of deepcompassion to the simple man by her side.His rough face looked a little more unattractive than usual. His evening clotheswere almost grotesque. His face wore alook of solitude, of hunger."What were you saying?" she said,dreamily. "I beg your pardon.""I was sayin' how I used t' dream ofsittin' on the steps of a hotel like this, andnot havin' a thing t' do. When I used t'come down here out of the gulch, and seemen who had had good dinners, an' goodbaths, sittin' around smokin', with moneyt' go over there t' th' bookstan' an' get anythin' they'd want, it used t' seem t' meabout all a single man could wish fur.""Well, you've got it all now.""But I didn't any of th' time supposethat would satisfy a man long. Only I wasso darned tired I couldn't help wantin' t'rest. But I'm not so selfish ur s' narrowas to be satisfied with THAT. No, I'm notgoin' t' spend m' pile that way -- quite!"He laughed out loud, and then sat insilence watching Kate as she lay backwearily in her chair."I've got t' have that there garden," hesaid, laughingly. "Got t' get them roses.An' I'll have a big bath-house, -- plenty ofsprings in this country. You ken have abath here that won't freeze summer NORwinter. An' a baby! I've got t' have ababy. He'll go with th' roses an' th'bath." He laughed again heartily."It's a queer joke, isn't it?" Roederasked. "Talkin' about my baby, an' Ihaven't even a wife." His face flushed andhe turned his eyes away."Have I shown you the pictures of mybabies?" Kate inquired. "You'd like myboy, I know. And my girl is just like me,-- in miniature."There was a silence. She looked upafter a moment. Roeder appeared to beexamining the monogram on his ring as ifhe had never seen it before."I didn't understand that you were married," he said gently."Didn't you? I don't think you evercalled me by any name at all, or I shouldhave noticed your mistake and set you right.Yes, I'm married. I came out here to getstrong for the babies.""Got a boy an' a girl, eh?""Yes.""How old's th' boy?""Five.""An' th' girl?""She'll soon be four.""An' yer husband -- he's livin'?""I should say so! I'm a very happywoman, Mr. Roeder. If only I werestronger!""Yer lookin' much better," he said,gravely, "than when you come. You'll beall right."The moon began to come up scarletbeyond the eastern hills. The two watchedit in silence. Kate had a feeling of guilt,as if she had been hurting some helplessthing."I was in hopes," he said, suddenly, in avoice that seemed abrupt and shrill, "thetyou'd see fit t' stay here.""Here in Helena? Oh, no!""I was thinkin' I'd offer you that twohundred thousand dollars, if you'd stay.""Mr. Roeder! You don't mean --surely --""Why, yes. Why not?" He spokerather doggedly. "I'll never see no otherwoman like you. You're different fromothers. How good you've been t' me!""Good! I'm afraid I've been very bad-- at least, very stupid.""I say, now -- your husband's good t'you, ain't he?""He is the kindest man that ever lived.""Oh, well, I didn't know."A rather awkward pause followed whichwas broken by Roeder."I don't see jest what I'm goin' t' dowith that thar two hundred thousand dollars," he said, mournfully."Do with it? Why, live with it! Sendsome to your mother.""Oh, I've done that. Five thousanddollars. It don't seem much here; but it'llseem a lot t' her. I'd send her more, onlyit would've bothered her.""Then there is your house, -- the housewith the bath-room. But I suppose you'llhave other rooms?"Peter laughed a little in spite of himself."I guess I won't have a house," he said."An' I couldn't make a garden alone.""Hire a man to help you." Kate wastrembling, but she kept talking gayly. Shewas praying that nothing very serious wouldhappen. There was an undercurrent of sombreness in the man's manner that frightenedher."I guess I'll jest have t' keep ondreamin' of that boy playin' with th' roses.""No, no," cried Kate; "he will cometrue some day! I know he'll come true."Peter got up and stood by her chair."You don't know nothin' about it," hesaid. "You don't know, an' you can't knowwhat it's bin t' me t' talk with you. HereI come out of a place where there ain't nosound but the water and the pines. Yearscome an' go. Still no sound. Onlythinkin', thinkin', thinkin'! Missin' allth' things men care fur! Dreamin' of atime when I sh'd strike th' pile. Then Iseed home, wife, a boy, flowers, everythin'.You're so beautiful, an' you're so good.You've a way of pickin' a man's heart rightout of him. First time I set my eyes onyou I thought you were th' nicest thing Iever see! And how little you are! Thathand of yours, -- look at it, -- it's like aleaf! An' how easy you smile. Up th'gulch we didn't smile; we laughed, butgen'ly because some one got in a fix. Thenyour voice! Ah, I've thought fur yearsthat some day I might hear a voice likethat! Don't you go! Sit still! I'm notblamin' you fur anythin'; but I maynever, 's long's I live, find any one whowill understand things th' way you understand 'em. Here! I tell you about thatgulch an' you see that gulch. You knowhow th' rain sounded thar, an' how th'shack looked, an' th' life I led, an' all th'thoughts I had, an' th' long nights, an'th' times when -- but never mind. I knowyou know it all. I saw it in yer eyes. Itell you of mother, an' you see 'er. Youknow 'er old German face, an' 'er proudways, an' her pride in me, an' how shewould think I wuz awfully rich. An' yousee how she would give out them linens, allmarked fur my wife, an' how I would sitan' watch her doin' it, an' -- you see everything. I know you do. I could feel youdoin' it. Then I say to myself: 'Here isth' one woman in th' world made fur me.Whatever I have, she shall have. I'llspend my life waitin' on her. She'll tellme all th' things I ought t' know, an' hevmissed knowin'; she'll read t' me; she'llbe patient when she finds how dull I'vegrown. And thar'll be th' boy --'"He seized her hand and wrung it, and wasgone. Kate saw him no more that night.The next morning the major returned.Kate threw her arms around his neck andwept."I want the babies," she explained whenthe major showed his consternation. "Don'tmind my crying. You ought to be used toseeing me cry by this time. I must gethome, that's all. I must see Jack."So that night they started.At the door of the carriage stood PeterRoeder, waiting."I'm going t' ride down with you," hesaid. The major looked nonplussed.Kate got in and the major followed."Come," she said to Roeder. He satopposite and looked at her as if he wouldfasten her image on his mind."You remember," he said after a time,"that I told you I used t' dream of sittin' onthe veranda of th' hotel and havin' nothin't' do?""Yes.""Well, I don't think I care fur it. I'vehad a month of it. I'm goin' back upth' gulch.""No!" cried Kate, instinctively reachingout her hands toward him."Why not? I guess you don't know me.I knew that somewhere I'd find a friend. Ifound that friend; an' now I'm aloneagain. It's pretty quiet up thar in thegulch; but I'll try it.""No, no. Go to Europe; go to see yourmother.""I thought about that a good deal, awhile ago. But I don't seem t' have noheart fur it now. I feel as if I'd be saferin th' gulch.""Safer?""The world looks pretty big. It's safeand close in th' gulch."At the station the major went to lookafter the trunks, and Roeder put Kate inher seat."I wanted t' give you something " hesaid, seating himself beside her, "but Ididn't dare.""Oh, my dear friend," she cried, layingher little gloved hand on his red and knottedone, "don't go back into the shadow. Donot return to that terrible silence. Wait.Have patience. Fate has brought youwealth. It will bring you love.""I've somethin' to ask," he said, payingno attention to her appeal. "You mustanswer it. If we 'a' met long ago, an' youhadn't a husband or -- anythin' -- do youthink you'd've loved me then?"She felt herself turning white."No," she said softly. "I could neverhave loved you, my dear friend. We arenot the same. Believe me, there is awoman somewhere who will love you; butI am not that woman -- nor could I haveever been."The train was starting. The major camebustling in."Well, good-by," said Roeder, holdingout his hand to Kate."Good-by," she cried. "Don't go backup the gulch.""Oh," he said, reassuringly, "don't youworry about me, my -- don't worry. Thegulch is a nice, quiet place. An' you knowwhat I told you about th' ranks all bein'full. Good-by." The train was well underway. He sprang off, and stood on theplatform waving his handkerchief."Well, Kate," said the major, seatinghimself down comfortably and adjusting histravelling cap, "did you find the Westerntype?""I don't quite know," said she, slowly."But I have made the discovery that ahuman soul is much the same wherever youmeet it.""Dear me! You haven't been meetinga soul, have you?" the major said, facetiously, unbuckling his travelling-bag. "I'lltell Jack.""No, I'll tell Jack. And he'll feelquite as badly as I do to think that I coulddo nothing for its proper adjustment."The major's face took on a look of comprehension."Was that the soul," he asked, "that justcame down in the carriage with us?""That was it," assented Kate. "It wasborn; it has had its mortal day; and ithas gone back up the gulch."
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