The Call Of The Canyon by Zane Grey (most inspirational books .txt) π
Laid The Letter In Her Lap And Gazed Dreamily Through The Window.
It Was A Day Typical Of Early April In New York, Rather Cold And Gray, With
Steely Sunlight. Spring Breathed In The Air, But The Women Passing Along
Fifty-Seventh Street Wore Furs And Wraps. She Heard The Distant Clatter Of
An L Train And Then The Hum Of A Motor Car. A Hurdy-Gurdy Jarred Into The
Interval Of Quiet.
"Glenn Has Been Gone Over A Year," She Mused, "Three Months Over A Year--
And Of All His Strange Letters This Seems The Strangest Yet."
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- Author: Zane Grey
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Stranger Had Accosted Her. What Was This Dimming Of Her Eye, This Inward
Tremulousness; This Dammed Tide Beating At An Unknown And Riveted Gate Of
Her Intelligence? She Felt More Then Than She Dared To Face. She Struggled
Against Something In Herself. The Old Habit Of Mind Instinctively Resisted
The New, The Strange. But She Did Not Come Off Wholly Victorious. The
Carley Burch Whom She Recognized As Of Old, Passionately Hated This Life
And Work Of Glenn Kilbourne's, But The Rebel Self, An Unaccountable And
Defiant Carley, Loved Him All The Better For Them.
Carley Drew A Long Deep Breath Before She Called Glenn. This Meeting Would
Be Momentous And She Felt No Absolute Surety Of Herself.
Manifestly He Was Surprised To Hear Her Call, And, Dropping His Sack And
Implement, He Hurried Across The Tilled Ground, Sending Up Puffs Of Dust.
He Vaulted The Rude Fence Of Poles, And Upon Sight Of Her Called Out
Lustily. How Big And Virile He Looked! Yet He Was Gaunt And Strained. It
Struck Carley That He Had Not Looked So Upon Her Arrival At Oak Creek. Had
She Worried Him? The Query Gave Her A Pang.
"Sir Tiller Of The Fields," Said Carley, Gayly, "See, Your Dinner! I
Brought It And I Am Going To Share It."
"You Old Darling!" He Replied, And Gave Her An Embrace That Left Her Cheek
Chapter 7 Pg 115Moist With The Sweat Of His. He Smelled Of Dust And Earth And His Body Was
Hot. "I Wish To God It Could Be True For Always!"
His Loving, Bearish Onslaught And His Words Quite Silenced Carley. How At
Critical Moments He Always Said The Thing That Hurt Her Or Inhibited Her!
She Essayed A Smile As She Drew Back From Him.
"It's Sure Good Of You," He Said, Taking The Basket. "I Was Thinking I'd Be
Through Work Sooner Today, And Was Sorry I Had Not Made A Date With You.
Come, We'll Find A Place To Sit."
Whereupon He Led Her Back Under The Trees To A Half-Sunny, Half-Shady Bench
Of Rock Overhanging The Stream. Great Pines Overshadowed A Still, Eddying
Pool. A Number Of Brown Butterflies Hovered Over The Water, And Small Trout
Floated Like Spotted Feathers Just Under The Surface. Drowsy Summer
Enfolded The Sylvan Scene.
Glenn Knelt At The Edge Of The Brook, And, Plunging His Hands In, He
Splashed Like A Huge Dog And Bathed His Hot Face And Head, And Then Turned
To Carley With Gay Words And Laughter, While He Wiped Himself Dry With A
Large Red Scarf. Carley Was Not Proof Against The Virility Of Him Then, And
At The Moment, No Matter What It Was That Had Made Him The Man He Looked,
She Loved It.
"I'll Sit In The Sun," He Said, Designating A Place. "When You're Hot You
Mustn't Rest In The Shade, Unless You've Coat Or Sweater. But You Sit Here
In The Shade."
"Glenn, That'll Put Us Too Far Apart," Complained Carley. "I'll Sit In The
Sun With You."
The Delightful Simplicity And Happiness Of The Ensuing Hour Was Something
Carley Believed She Would Never Forget.
"There! We've Licked The Platter Clean," She Said. "What Starved Bears We
Were! . . . . I Wonder If I Shall Enjoy Eating--When I Get Home. I Used To
Be So Finnicky And Picky."
"Carley, Don't Talk About Home," Said Glenn, Appealingly.
"You Dear Old Farmer, I'd Love To Stay Here And Just Dream--Forever,"
Chapter 7 Pg 116Replied Carley, Earnestly. "But I Came On Purpose To Talk Seriously."
"Oh, You Did! About What?" He Returned, With Some Quick, Indefinable Change
Of Tone And Expression.
"Well, First About Your Work. I Know I Hurt Your Feelings When I Wouldn't
Listen. But I Wasn't Ready. I Wanted To--To Just Be Gay With You For A
While. Don't Think I Wasn't Interested. I Was. And Now, I'm Ready To Hear
All About It--And Everything."
She Smiled At Him Bravely, And She Knew That Unless Some Unforeseen Shock
Upset Her Composure, She Would Be Able To Conceal From Him Anything Which
Might Hurt His Feelings.
"You Do Look Serious," He Said, With Keen Eyes On Her.
"Just What Are Your Business Relations With Hutter?" She Inquired.
"I'm Simply Working For Him," Replied Glenn. "My Aim Is To Get An Interest
In His Sheep, And I Expect To, Some Day. We Have Some Plans. And One Of
Them Is The Development Of That Deep Lake Section. You Remember--You Were
With Us. The Day Spillbeans Spilled You?"
"Yes, I Remember. It Was A Pretty Place," She Replied.
Carley Did Not Tell Him That For A Month Past She Had Owned The Deep Lake
Section Of Six Hundred And Forty Acres. She Had, In Fact, Instructed Hutter
To Purchase It, And To Keep The Transaction A Secret For The Present.
Carley Had Never Been Able To Understand The Impulse That Prompted Her To
Do It. But As Hutter Had Assured Her It Was A Remarkably Good Investment On
Very Little Capital, She Had Tried To Persuade Herself Of Its Advantages.
Back Of It All Had Been An Irresistible Desire To Be Able Some Day To
Present To Glenn This Ranch Site He Loved. She Had Concluded He Would
Never Wholly Dissociate Himself From This West; And As He Would Visit It
Now And Then, She Had Already Begun Forming Plans Of Her Own. She Could
Stand A Month In Arizona At Long Intervals.
"Hutter And I Will Go Into Cattle Raising Some Day," Went On Glenn. "And
That Deep Lake Place Is What I Want For Myself."
"What Work Are You Doing For Hutter?" Asked Carley.
"Anything From Building Fence To Cutting Timber," Laughed Glenn. "I've Not
Yet The Experience To Be A Foreman Like Lee Stanton. Besides, I Have A
Chapter 7 Pg 117Little Business All My Own. I Put All My Money In That."
"You Mean Here--This--This Farm?"
"Yes. And The Stock I'm Raisin'. You See I Have To Feed Corn. And Believe
Me, Carley, Those Cornfields Represent Some Job."
"I Can Well Believe That," Replied Carley. "You--You Looked It."
"Oh, The Hard Work Is Over. All I Have To Do Now It To Plant And Keep The
Weeds Out."
"Glenn, Do Sheep Eat Corn?"
"I Plant Corn To Feed My Hogs."
"Hogs?" She Echoed, Vaguely.
"Yes, Hogs," He Said, With Quiet Gravity. "The First Day You Visited My
Cabin I Told You I Raised Hogs, And I Fried My Own Ham For Your Dinner."
"Is That What You--Put Your Money In?"
"Yes. And Hutter Says I've Done Well."
"Hogs!" Ejaculated Carley, Aghast.
"My Dear, Are You Growin' Dull Of Comprehension?" Retorted Glenn.
"H-O-G-S." He Spelled The Word Out. "I'm In The Hog-Raising Business, And
Pretty Blamed Well Pleased Over My Success So Far."
Carley Caught Herself In Time To Quell Outwardly A Shock Of Amaze And
Revulsion. She Laughed, And Exclaimed Against Her Stupidity. The Look Of
Glenn Was No Less Astounding Than The Content Of His Words. He Was Actually
Proud Of His Work. Moreover, He Showed Not The Least Sign That He Had Any
Idea Such Information Might Be Startlingly Obnoxious To His Fiancee.
"Glenn! It's So--So Queer," She Ejaculated. "That You--Glenn Kilbourne-
Should Ever Go In For--For Hogs! . . . It's Unbelievable. How'd You
Ever--Ever Happen To Do It?"
"By Heaven! You're Hard On Me!" He Burst Out, In Sudden Dark, Fierce
Passion. "How'd I Ever Happen To Do It? . . . What Was There Left For Me? I
Gave My Soul And Heart And Body To The Government--To Fight For My Country.
I Came Home A Wreck. What Did My Government Do For Me? What Did My
Employers Do For Me? What Did The People I Fought For Do For Me? . . .
Nothing--So Help Me God--Nothing! . . . I Got A Ribbon And A Bouquet--A
Little Applause For An Hour--And Then The Sight Of Me Sickened My
Chapter 7 Pg 118Countrymen. I Was Broken And Used. I Was Absolutely Forgotten. . . . But My
Body, My Life, My Soul Meant All To Me. My Future Was Ruined, But I Wanted
To Live. I Had Killed Men Who Never Harmed Me--I Was Not Fit To Die. . . .
I Tried To Live. So I Fought Out My Battle Alone. Alone! . . . No One
Understood. No One Cared. I Came West To Keep From Dying Of Consumption In
Sight Of The Indifferent Mob For Whom I Had Sacrificed Myself. I Chose To
Die On My Feet Away Off Alone Somewhere. . . . But I Got Well. And What
Made Me Well--And Saved My Soul--Was The First Work That Offered. Raising
And Tending Hogs!"
The Dead Whiteness Of Glenn's Face, The Lightning Scorn Of His Eyes, The
Grim, Stark Strangeness Of Him Then Had For Carley A Terrible Harmony With
This Passionate Denunciation Of Her, Of Her Kind, Of The America For Whom
He Had Lost All.
"Oh, Glenn!--Forgive--Me!" She Faltered. "I Was Only--Talking. What Do I
Know? Oh, I Am Blind--Blind And Little!"
She Could Not Bear To Face Him For A Moment, And She Hung Her Head. Her
Intelligence Seemed Concentrating Swift, Wild Thoughts Round The Shock To
Her Consciousness. By That Terrible Expression Of His Face, By Those
Thundering Words Of Scorn, Would She Come To Realize The Mighty Truth Of
His Descent Into The Abyss And His Rise To The Heights. Vaguely She Began
To See. An Awful Sense Of Her Deadness, Of Her Soul-Blighting Selfishness,
Began To Dawn Upon Her As Something Monstrous Out Of Dim, Gray Obscurity.
She Trembled Under The Reality Of Thoughts That Were Not New. How She Had
Babbled About Glenn And The Crippled Soldiers! How She Had
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