Clover

  CHAPTER VIII.

  HIGH VALLEY.

  Clover was putting Phil's chamber to rights, and turning it into asitting-room for the day, which was always her first task in the morning.They had been at St. Helen's nearly three weeks now, and the place hadtaken on a very homelike appearance. All the books and the photographswere unpacked, the washstand had vanished behind a screen made of athree-leaved clothes-frame draped with chintz, while a ruffled cover ofthe same gay chintz, on which bunches of crimson and pink geraniumsstraggled over a cream-colored ground, gave to the narrow bed the air of arespectable wide sofa.

  "There! those look very nice, I think," she said, giving the last touch toa bowl full of beautiful garden roses. "How sweet they are!"

  "Your young man seems rather clever about roses," remarked Phil, who,boy-like, dearly loved to tease his sister.

  "My young man, as you call him, has a father with a gardener," repliedClover, calmly; "no very brilliant cleverness is required for that."

  In a cordial, kindly place, like St. Helen's, people soon makeacquaintances, and Clover and Phil felt as if they already knew half thepeople in the town. Every one had come to see them and deluged them withflowers, and invitations to dine, to drive, to take tea. Among the restcame Mr. Thurber Wade, whom Phil was pleased to call Clover's youngman,--the son of a rich New York banker, whose ill-health had brought himto live in St. Helen's, and who had built a handsome house on theprincipal street. This gilded youth had several times sent roses toClover,--a fact which Phil had noticed, and upon which he was fond ofcommenting.

  "Speaking of young men," went on Clover, "what do you suppose has becomeof Clarence Page? He said he should come in to see us soon; but that wasever so long ago."

  "He's a fraud, I suspect," replied Phil, lazily, from his seat in thewindow. He had a geometry on his knees, and was supposed to be going onwith his education, but in reality he was looking at the mountains. "Isuppose people are pretty busy on ranches, though," he added. "Perhapsthey're sheep-shearing."

  "Oh, it isn't a sheep ranch. Don't you remember his saying that the cattlegot very wild, and they had to ride after them? They wouldn't ride aftersheep. I hope he hasn't forgotten about us. I was so glad to see him."

  While this talk went on, Clarence was cantering down the lower end of theUte Pass on his way to St. Helen's. Three hours later his name was broughtup to them.

  "How nice!" cried Clover. "I think as he's a relative we might let himcome here, Phil. It's so much pleasanter than the parlor."

  Clarence, who had passed the interval of waiting in noting the differentvarieties of cough among the sick people in the parlor, was quite of heropinion.

  "How jolly you look!" was almost his first remark. "I'm glad you've got alittle place of your own, and don't have to sit with those poor creaturesdownstairs all the time."

  "It is much nicer. Some of them are getting better, though."

  "Some of them aren't. There's one poor fellow in a reclining-chair wholooks badly."

  "That's the one whose room Mrs. Watson has marked for her own. She askshim three times a day how he feels, with all the solicitude of a mother,"said Phil.

  "Who's Mrs. Watson?"

  "Well, she's an old lady who is somehow fastened to us, and who considersherself our chaperone," replied Clover, with a little laugh. "I mustintroduce you by-and-by, but first we want a good talk all by ourselves.Now tell us why you haven't come to see us before. We have been hopingfor you every day."

  "Well, I've wanted to come badly enough, but there has been a combinationof hindrances. Two of our men got sick, so there was more to do thanusual; then Geoff had to be away four days, and almost as soon as he gotback he had bad news from home, and I hated to leave him alone."

  "What sort of bad news?"

  "His sister's dead."

  "Poor fellow! In England too! You said he was English, didn't you?"

  "Yes. She was married. Her husband was a clergyman down in Cornwallsomewhere. She was older than Geoff a good deal; but he was very fond ofher, and the news cut him up dreadfully."

  "No wonder. It is horrible to hear such a thing when one is far fromhome," observed Clover. She tried to realize how she should feel if wordcame to St. Helen's of Katy's death, or Elsie's, or Johnnie's; but hermind refused to accept the question. The very idea made her shiver.

  "Poor fellow!" she said again; "what could you do for him, Clarence?"

  "Not much. I'm a poor hand at comforting any one,--men generally are, Iguess. Geoff knows I'm sorry for him; but it takes a woman to say theright thing at such times. We sit and smoke when the work's done, and Iknow what he's thinking about; but we don't say anything to each other.Now let's speak of something else. I want to settle about your coming toHigh Valley."

  "High Valley? Is that the name of your place?"

  "Yes. I want you to see it. It's an awfully pretty place to mythinking,--not so very much higher than this, but you have to climb a gooddeal to get there. Can't you come? This is just the time,--raspberriesripe, and lots of flowers wherever the beasts don't get at them. Phil canhave all the riding he wants, and it'll do poor Geoff lots of good to seesome one."

  "It would be very nice indeed," doubtfully; "but who could we get to gowith us?"

  "I thought of that. We don't take much stock in Mrs. Grundy out here; butI supposed you'd want another lady. How would it be if I asked Mrs. Hope?The doctor's got to come out anyway to see one of our herders who's puthis shoulder out in a fall. If he would drive you out, and Mrs. Hope wouldstay on, would you come for a week? I guess you'll like it."

  "I 'guess' we should," exclaimed Clover, her face lighting up. "Clarence,how delightful it sounds! It will be lovely to come if Mrs. Hope saysyes."

  "Then that's all right," replied Clarence, looking extremely pleased."I'll ride up to the doctor's as soon as dinner's over."

  "You'll dine with us, of course?"

  "Oh, I always come to Mother Marsh for a bite whenever I stay over theday. She likes to have me. We've been great chums ever since I had feverhere, and she took care of me."

  Clover was amused at dinner to watch the cool deliberation with whichClarence studied Mrs. Watson and her tortuous conversation, and, as hewould have expressed it, "took stock of her." The result was notfavorable, apparently.

  "What on earth did they send that old thing with you for?" he asked assoon as they went upstairs. "She's as much out of her element here as acanary-bird would be in a cyclone. She can't be any use to you, Clover."

  "Well, no; I don't think she is. It was a sort of mistake; I'll tell youabout it sometime. But she likes to imagine that she's taking care of me;and as it does no harm, I let her."

  "Taking care of you! Great thunder! I wouldn't trust her to take care of ablue-eyed kitten," observed the irreverent Clarence. "Well, I'll ride upand settle with the Hopes, and stop and let you know as I come back."

  Mrs. Hope and the doctor were not hard to persuade. In Colorado, peoplekeep their lamps of enjoyment filled and trimmed, so to speak, and theirtravelling energies ready girt about them, and easily adopt any plan whichpromises pleasure. The following day was fixed for the start, and Cloverpacked her valise and Phil's bag, with a sense of exhilaration and escape.She was, in truth, getting very tired of the exactions of Mrs. Watson.Mrs. Watson, on her part, did not at all approve of the excursion.

  "I think," she said, swelling with offended dignity, "that your cousindidn't know much about politeness when he left me out of his invitationand asked Mrs. Hope instead. Yes, I know; the doctor had to go up anyway.That may be true, and it may not; but it doesn't alter the case. What am Ito do, I should like to know, if the valves of my heart don't open, ordon't shut--whichever it is--while I'm left all alone here amongstrangers?"

  "Send for Dr. Hope," suggested Phil. "He'll only be gone one night. Cloverdoesn't know anything about valves."

  "My cousin lives in a rather rough way, I imagine," interposed Clover,with a reproving look at Phil. "He would hardly like to ask a strange
r andan invalid to his house, when he might not be able to make hercomfortable. Mrs. Hope has been there before, and she's an old friend."

  "Oh, I dare say! There are always reasons. I don't say that I should havefelt like going, but he ought to have asked me. Ellen will be surprised,and so will--He's from Ashburn too, and he must know the Parmenters, andMrs. Parmenter's brother's son is partner to Henry's brother-in-law. It'sof no consequence, of course,--still, respect--older people--Boston--notused to--Phillips--" Mrs. Watson's voice died away into fragmentary andinaudible lamentings.

  Clover attempted no further excuse. Her good sense told her that she had aperfect right to accept this little pleasure; that Mrs. Watson's plans forWestern travel had been formed quite independently of their own, and thatpapa would not wish her to sacrifice herself and Phil to such unreasonablehumors. Still, it was not pleasant; and I am sorry to say that from thistime dated a change of feeling on Mrs. Watson's part toward her "youngfriends." She took up a chronic position of grievance toward them,confided her wrongs to all new-comers, and met Clover with an offended airwhich, though Clover ignored it, did not add to the happiness of her lifeat Mrs. Marsh's.

  It was early in the afternoon when they started, and the sun was justdipping behind the mountain wall when they drove into the High Valley. Itwas one of those natural parks, four miles long, which lie likeheaven-planted gardens among the Colorado ranges. The richest of grassclothed it; fine trees grew in clumps and clusters here and there; and thespaces about the house where fences of barbed wire defended the grass fromthe cattle, seemed a carpet of wild-flowers.

  Clover exclaimed with delight at the view. The ranges which lapped andheld the high, sheltered upland in embrace opened toward the south, andrevealed a splendid lonely peak, on whose summit a drift of freshly-fallensnow was lying. The contrast with the verdure and bloom below wascharming.

  The cabin--it was little more--stood facing this view, and was backed by agroup of noble red cedars. It was built of logs, long and low, with a rudeporch in front supported on unbarked tree trunks. Two fine collies rushedto meet them, barking vociferously; and at the sound Clarence hurried tothe door. He met them with great enthusiasm, lifted out Mrs. Hope, thenClover, and then began shouting for his chum, who was inside.

  "Hollo, Geoff! where are you? Hurry up; they've come." Then, as heappeared, "Ladies and gentleman, my partner!"

  Geoffrey Templestowe was a tall, sinewy young Englishman, with ruddy hairand beard, grave blue eyes, and an unmistakable air of good breeding. Hewore a blue flannel shirt and high boots like Clarence's, yet somehow hemade Clarence look a little rough and undistinguished. He was quiet inspeech, reserved in manner, and seemed depressed and under a cloud; butClover liked his face at once. He looked both strong and kind, shethought.

  The house consisted of one large square room in the middle, which servedas parlor and dining-room both, and on either side two bedrooms. Thekitchen was in a separate building. There was no lack of comfort, thoughthings were rather rude, and the place had a bare, masculine look. Thefloor was strewn with coyote and fox skins. Two or three easy-chairs stoodaround the fireplace, in which, July as it was, a big log was blazing.Their covers were shabby and worn; but they looked comfortable, and wereevidently in constant use. There was not the least attempt at prettinessanywhere. Pipes and books and old newspapers littered the chairs andtables; when an extra seat was needed Clarence simply tipped a great pileof these on to the floor. A gun-rack hung upon the wall, together withsundry long stock-whips and two or three pairs of spurs, and a smell oftobacco pervaded the place.

  Clover's eyes wandered to a corner where stood a small parlor organ, andover it a shelf of books. She rose to examine them. To her surprise theywere all hymnals and Church of England prayer-books. There were no others.She wondered what it meant.

  Clarence had given up his own bedroom to Phil, and was to chum with hisfriend. Some little attempt had been made to adorn the rooms which weremeant for the ladies. Clean towels had been spread over the pine shelveswhich did duty for dressing-tables, and on each stood a tumbler stuffed asfull as it could hold with purple pentstemons. Clover could not helplaughing, yet there was something pathetic to her in the clumsy, man-likearrangement. She relieved the tumbler by putting a few of the flowers inher dress, and went out again to the parlor, where Mrs. Hope sat by thefire, quizzing the two partners, who were hard at work setting theirtea-table.

  It was rather a droll spectacle,--the two muscular young fellows creakingto and fro in their heavy boots, and taking such an infinitude of painswith their operations. One would set a plate on the table, and the otherwould forthwith alter its position slightly, or lift and scrutinize atumbler and dust it sedulously with a glass-towel. Each spoon was polishedwith the greatest particularity before it was laid on the tray; each knifepassed under inspection. Visitors were not an every-day luxury in the HighValley, and too much care could not be taken for their entertainment, itseemed.

  Supper was brought in by a Chinese cook in a pigtail, wooden shoes, and ablue Mother Hubbard, Choo Loo by name. He was evidently a good cook, forthe corn-bread and fresh mountain trout and the ham and eggs were savoryto the last degree, and the flapjacks, with which the meal concluded, andwhich were eaten with a sauce of melted raspberry jelly, deserved evenhigher encomium.

  "We are willing to be treated as company this first night," observed Mrs.Hope; "but if you are going to keep us a week, you must let us makeourselves useful, and set the table and arrange the rooms for you."

  "We will begin to-morrow morning," added Clover. "May we, Clarence? May weplay that it is our house, and do what we like, and change about andarrange things? It will be such fun."

  "Fire away!" said her cousin, calmly. "The more you change the more weshall like it. Geoff and I aren't set in our ways, and are glad enough tobe let off duty for a week. The hut is yours just as long as you willstay; do just what you like with it. Though we're pretty good housekeeperstoo, considering; don't you think so?"

  "Do you believe he meant it?" asked Clover, confidentially afterward ofMrs. Hope. "Do you think they really wouldn't mind being tidied up alittle? I should so like to give that room a good dusting, if it wouldn'tvex them."

  "My dear, they will probably never know the difference except by a vaguesense of improved comfort. Men are dreadfully untidy, as a general thing,when left to themselves; but they like very well to have other people makethings neat."

  "Mr. Templestowe told Phil that they go off early in the morning and don'tcome back till breakfast at half-past seven; so if I wake early enough Ishall try to do a little setting to rights before they come in."

  "And I'll come and help if I don't over-sleep," declared Mrs. Hope; "butthis air makes me feel dreadfully as if I should."

  "I sha'n't call you," said Clover; "but it will be nice to have you, ifyou come."

  She stood at her window after Mrs. Hope had gone, for a last look at thepeak which glittered sharply in the light of the moon. The air was likescented wine. She drew a long breath.

  "How lovely it is!" she said to herself, and kissed her hand to themountain. "Good-night, you beautiful thing."

  She woke with the first beam of yellow sun, after eight hours of dreamlesssleep, with a keen sense of renovation and refreshment. A great splashingwas going on in the opposite wing, and manly voices hushed to suppressedtones were audible. Then came a sound of boots on the porch; and peepingfrom behind her curtain, she saw Clarence and his friend striding acrossthe grass in the direction of the stock-huts. She glanced at her watch. Itwas a quarter past five.

  "Now is my chance," she thought; and dressing rapidly, she put on a littlecambric jacket, knotted her hair up, tied a handkerchief over it, andhurried into the sitting-room. Her first act was to throw open all thewindows to let out the smell of stale tobacco, her next to hunt for abroom. She found one at last, hanging on the door of a sort ofstore-closet, and moving the furniture as noiselessly as she could, shegave the room a rapid but effectual sweeping.


  While the dust settled, she stole out to a place on the hillside where thenight before she had noticed some mariposa lilies growing, and gathered alarge bunch. Then she proceeded to dust and straighten, sorted out thenewspapers, wiped the woodwork with a damp cloth, arranged the disorderlybooks, and set the breakfast-table. When all this was done, there wasstill time to finish her toilet and put her pretty hair in its accustomedcoils and waves; so that Clarence and Mr. Templestowe came in to find thefire blazing, the room bright and neat, Mrs. Hope sitting at the table ina pretty violet gingham ready to pour the coffee which Choo Loo hadbrought in, and Clover, the good fairy of this transformation scene, in afresh blue muslin, with a ribbon to match in her hair, just setting themariposas in the middle of the table. Their lilac-streaked bells noddedfrom a tall vase of ground glass.

  "Oh, I say," cried Clarence, "this _is_ something like! Isn't itscrumptious, Geoff? The hut never looked like this before. It's wonderfulwhat a woman--no, two women," with a bow to Mrs. Hope--"can do towardmaking things pleasant. Where did that vase come from, Clover? We neverowned anything so fine as that, I'm sure."

  "It came from my bag; and it's a present for you and Mr. Templestowe. Isaw it in a shop-window yesterday; and it occurred to me that it might bejust the thing for High Valley, and fill a gap. And Mrs. Hope has broughtyou each a pretty coffee-cup."

  It was a merry meal. The pleasant look of the room, the little surprises,and the refreshment of seeing new and kindly faces, raised Mr.Templestowe's spirits, and warmed him out of his reserve. He grew cheerfuland friendly. Clarence was in uproarious spirits, and Phil even worse. Itseemed as if the air of the High Valley had got into his head.

  Dr. Hope left at noon, after making a second visit to the lame herder, andMrs. Hope and Clover settled themselves for a week of enjoyment. They werealone for hours every day, while their young hosts were off on the ranch,and they devoted part of this time to various useful and decorative arts.They took all manner of liberties, poked about and rummaged, mended,sponged, assorted, and felt themselves completely mistresses of thesituation. A note to Marian Chase brought up a big parcel by stage to theUte Valley, four miles away, from which it was fetched over by a cow-boyon horseback; and Clover worked away busily at scrim curtains for thewindows, while Mrs. Hope shaped a slip cover of gay chintz for theshabbiest of the armchairs, hemmed a great square of gold-colored cantonflannel for the bare, unsightly table, and made a bright red pincushionapiece for the bachelor quarters. The sitting-room took on quite a newaspect, and every added touch gave immense satisfaction to "the boys," asMrs. Hope called them, who thoroughly enjoyed the effect of theseministrations, though they had not the least idea how to produce itthemselves.

  Creature comforts were not forgotten. The two ladies amused themselveswith experiments in cookery. The herders brought a basket of wildraspberries, and Clover turned them into jam for winter use. Clarencegloated over the little white pots, and was never tired of counting them.They looked so like New England, he declared, that he felt as if he mustget a girl at once, and go and walk in the graveyard,--a pastime which heremembered as universal in his native town. Various cakes and puddingsappeared to attest the industry of the housekeepers; and on the only wetevening, when a wild thunder-gust was sweeping down the valley, they had awonderful candy-pull, and made enough to give all the cow-boys a treat.

  It must not be supposed that all their time went in these domesticpursuits. No, indeed. Mrs. Hope had brought her own side-saddle, and hadborrowed one for Clover; the place was full of horses, and not a daypassed without a long ride up or down the valley, and into the charminglittle side canyons which opened from it. A spirited broncho, namedSorrel, had been made over to Phil's use for the time of his stay, and hewas never out of the saddle when he could help it, except to eat andsleep. He shared in the herders' wild gallops after stock, and thoughClover felt nervous about the risks he ran, whenever she took time tothink them over, he was so very happy that she had not the heart tointerfere or check his pleasure.

  She and Mrs. Hope rode out with the gentlemen on the great day of theround-up, and, stationed at a safe point a little way up the hillside,watched the spectacle,--the plunging, excited herd, the cow-boys madlygalloping, swinging their long whips and lassos, darting to and fro tohead off refractory beasts or check the tendency to stampede. BothClarence and Geoffrey Templestowe were bold and expert riders; but theMexican and Texan herders in their employ far surpassed them. The ladieshad never seen anything like it. Phil and his broncho were in the midst ofthings, of course, and had one or two tumbles, but nothing to hurt them;only Clover was very thankful when it was all safely over.

  In their rides and scrambling walks it generally happened that Clarencetook possession of Clover, and left Geoff in charge of Mrs. Hope.Cousinship and old friendship gave him a right, he considered, and hecertainly took full advantage of it. Clover liked Clarence; but there weremoments when she felt that she would rather enjoy the chance to talk morewith Mr. Templestowe, and there was a look in his eyes now and then whichseemed to say that he might enjoy it too. But Clarence did not observethis look, and he had no idea of sharing his favorite cousin with any one,if he could help it.

  Sunday brought the explanation of the shelf full of prayer-books which hadpuzzled them on their first arrival. There was no church within reach; andit was Geoff's regular custom, it seemed, to hold a little service for themen in the valley. Almost all of them came, except the few Mexicans, whowere Roman Catholics, and the room was quite full. Geoff read the servicewell and reverently, gave out the hymns, and played the accompaniments forthem, closing with a brief bit of a sermon by the elder Arnold. It was alldone simply and as a matter of course, and Clarence seemed to join in itwith much good-will; but Clover privately wondered whether the idea ofdoing such a thing would have entered into his head had he been leftalone, or, if so, whether he would have cared enough about it to carry itout regularly. She doubted. Whatever the shortcomings of the Church ofEngland may be, she certainly trains her children into a devout observanceof Sunday.

  The next day, Monday, was to be their last,--a fact lamented by every one,particularly Phil, who regarded the High Valley as a paradise, and wouldgladly have remained there for the rest of his natural life. Clover hatedto take him away; but Dr. Hope had warned her privately that a week wouldbe enough of it, and that with Phil's tendency to overdo, too long a staywould be undesirable. So she stood firm, though Clarence urged a delay,and Phil seconded the proposal with all his might.

  The very pleasantest moment of the visit perhaps came on that lastafternoon, when Geoff got her to himself for once, and took her up atrail where she had not yet been, in search of scarlet pentstemons tocarry back to St. Helen's. They found great sheaves of the slender stemsthreaded, as it were, with jewel-like blossoms; but what was better still,they had a talk, and Clover felt that she had now a new friend. Geoff toldher of his people at home, and a little about the sister who had latelydied; only a little,--he could not yet trust himself to talk long abouther. Clover listened with frank and gentle interest. She liked to hearabout the old grange at the head of a chine above Clovelley, where Geoffwas born, and which had once been full of boys and girls, now scattered inthe English fashion to all parts of the world. There was Ralph with hisregiment in India,--he was the heir, it seemed,--and Jim and Jack inAustralia, and Oliver with his wife and children in New Zealand, and Allenat Harrow, and another boy fitting for the civil service. There was amarried sister in Scotland, and another in London; and Isabel, theyoungest of all, still at home,--the light of the house, and the specialpet of the old squire and of Geoff's mother, who, he told Clover, had beena great beauty in her youth, and though nearly seventy, was in his eyesbeautiful still.

  "It's pretty quiet there for Isabel," he said; "but she has my sisterHelen's two children to care for, and that will keep her busy. I used tothink she'd come out to me one of these years for a twelvemonth; butthere's little chance of her being spared now."

  Clover's sympathy did not
take the form of words. It looked out of hereyes, and spoke in the hushed tones of her soft voice. Geoff felt that itwas there, and it comforted him. The poor fellow was very lonely in thosedays, and inclined to be homesick, as even a manly man sometimes is.

  "What an awful time Adam must have had of it before Eve came!" growledClarence, that evening, as they sat around the fire.

  "He had a pretty bad time after she came, if I remember," said Clover,laughing.

  "Ah, but he had _her_!"

  "Stuff and nonsense! He was a long shot happier without her and her oldapple, I think," put in Phil. "You fellows don't know when you're welloff."

  Everybody laughed.

  "Phil's notion of Paradise is the High Valley and Sorrel, and no girlsabout to bother and tell him not to get too tired," remarked Clover. "It'sa fair vision; but like all fair visions it must end."

  And end it did next day, when Dr. Hope appeared with the carriage, and thebags and saddles were put in, and the great bundle of wild-flowers, withtheir stems tied in wet moss; and Phil, torn from his beloved broncho, onwhose back he had passed so many happy hours, was forced to accompany theothers back to civilization.

  "I shall see you very soon," said Clarence, tucking the lap-robe roundClover. "There's the mail to fetch, and other things. I shall be riding inevery day or two."

  "I shall see you very soon," said Geoff, on the other side. "Clarence isnot coming without me, I can assure you."

  Then the carriage drove away; and the two partners went back into thehouse, which looked suddenly empty and deserted.

  "I'll tell you what!" began Clarence.

  "And I'll tell _you_ what!" rejoined Geoff.

  "A house isn't worth a red cent which hasn't a woman in it."

  "You might ride down and ask Miss Perkins to step up and adorn our lives,"said his friend, grimly. Miss Perkins was a particularly rigid spinsterwho taught a school six miles distant, and for whom Clarence entertained aparticular distaste.

  "You be hanged! I don't mean that kind. I mean--"

  "The nice kind, like Mrs. Hope and your cousin. Well, I'm agreed."

  "I shall go down after the mail to-morrow," remarked Clarence, between thepuffs of his pipe.

  "So shall I."

  "All right; come along!" But though the words sounded hearty, the tonerather belied them. Clarence was a little puzzled by and did not quitelike this newborn enthusiasm on the part of his comrade.