The Call Of The Canyon by Zane Grey (most inspirational books .txt) 📕

Developing Of A Spirit Through All Time,  Carley Divined That She Had It

Within Her. So The Present Meant Little.

"I Have No Right To Be Unhappy," Concluded Carley. "I Had No Right To Glenn

Kilbourne. I Failed Him. In That I Failed Myself. Neither Life Nor Nature

Failed Me--Nor Love. It Is No Longer A Mystery. Unhappiness Is Only A

Change. Happiness Itself Is Only Change. So What Does It Matter? The Great

Thing Is To See Life--To Understand--To Feel--To Work--To Fight--To Endure.

It Is Not My Fault I Am Here. But It Is My Fault If I Leave This Strange

Old Earth The Poorer For My Failure. . . . I Will No Longer Be Little. I

Will Find Strength. I Will Endure. . . . I Still Have Eyes,  Ears,  Nose,

Taste. I Can Feel The Sun,  The Wind,  The Nip Of Frost. Must I Slink Like A

Craven Because I've Lost The Love Of One Man? Must I Hate Flo Hutter

Because She Will Make Glenn Happy? Never! ... All Of This Seems Better So,

Because Through It I Am Changed. I Might Have Lived On,  A Selfish Clod!"

Carley Turned From The Mountain Kingdom And Faced Her Future With The

Profound And Sad And Far-Seeing Look That Had Come With Her Lesson. She

Knew What To Give. Sometime And Somewhere There Would Be Recompense. She

Would Hide Her Wound In The Faith That Time Would Heal It. And The Ordeal

She Set Herself,  To Prove Her Sincerity And Strength,  Was To Ride Down To

Oak Creek Canyon.

Carley Did Not Wait Many Days. Strange How The Old Vanity Held Her Back

Until Something Of The Havoc In Her Face Should Be Gone!

One Morning She Set Out Early,  Riding Her Best Horse,  And She Took A Sheep

Trail Across Country. The Distance By Road Was Much Farther. The June

Morning Was Cool,  Sparkling,  Fragrant. Mocking Birds Sang From The Topmost

Twig Of Cedars; Doves Cooed In The Pines; Sparrow Hawks Sailed Low Over The

Open Grassy Patches. Desert Primroses Showed Their Rounded Pink Clusters In

Sunny Places,  And Here And There Burned The Carmine Of Indian Paint-Brush.

Jack Rabbits And Cotton-Tails Bounded And Scampered Away Through The Sage.

The Desert Had Life And Color And Movement This June Day. And As Always

There Was The Dry Fragrance On The Air.

Her Mustang Had Been Inured To Long And Consistent Travel Over The Desert.

Her Weight Was Nothing To Him And He Kept To The Swinging Lope For Miles.

As She Approached Oak Creek Canyon,  However,  She Drew Him To A Trot,  And

Then A Walk. Sight Of The Deep Red-Walled And Green-Floored Canyon Was A

Shock To Her.

The Trail Came Out On The Road That Led To Ryan's Sheep Camp,  At A Point

Several Miles West Of The Cabin Where Carley Had Encountered Haze Ruff. She

Remembered The Curves And Stretches,  And Especially The Steep Jump-Off

Where The Road Led Down Off The Rim Into The Canyon. Here She Dismounted

And Walked. From The Foot Of This Descent She Knew Every Rod Of The Way

Would Be Familiar To Her,  And,  Womanlike,  She Wanted To Turn Away And Fly

From Them. But She Kept On And Mounted Again At Level Ground.

The Murmur Of The Creek Suddenly Assailed Her Ears--Sweet,  Sad,  Memorable,

Strangely Powerful To Hurt. Yet The Sound Seemed Of Long Ago. Down Here

Summer Had Advanced. Rich Thick Foliage Overspread The Winding Road Of

Sand. Then Out Of The Shade She Passed Into The Sunnier Regions Of Isolated

Pines. Along Here She Had Raced Calico With Glenn's Bay; And Here She Had

Caught Him,  And There Was The Place She Had Fallen. She Halted A Moment

Under The Pine Tree Where Glenn Had Held Her In His Arms. Tears Dimmed Her

Eyes. If Only She Had Known Then The Truth,  The Reality! But Regrets Were

Useless.

By And By A Craggy Red Wall Loomed Above The Trees,  And Its Pipe-Organ

Conformation Was Familiar To Carley. She Left The Road And Turned To Go

Down To The Creek. Sycamores And Maples And Great Bowlders,  And Mossy

Ledges Overhanging The Water,  And A Huge Sentinel Pine Marked The Spot

Where She And Glenn Had Eaten Their Lunch That Last Day. Her Mustang

Splashed Into The Clear Water And Halted To Drink. Beyond,  Through The

Trees,  Carley Saw The Sunny Red-Earthed Clearing That Was Glenn's Farm. She

Looked,  And Fought Herself,  And Bit Her Quivering Lip Until She Tasted

Blood. Then She Rode Out Into The Open.

The Whole West Side Of The Canyon Had Been Cleared And Cultivated And

Plowed. But She Gazed No Farther. She Did Not Want To See The Spot Where

She Had Given Glenn His Ring And Had Parted From Him. She Rode On. If She

Could Pass West Fork She Believed Her Courage Would Rise To The Completion

Of This Ordeal. Places Were What She Feared. Places That She Had Loved

While Blindly Believing She Hated! There The Narrow Gap Of Green And Blue

Split The Looming Red Wall. She Was Looking Into West Fork. Up There Stood

The Cabin. How Fierce A Pang Rent Her Breast! She Faltered At The Crossing

Of The Branch Stream,  And Almost Surrendered. The Water Murmured,  The

Leaves Rustled,  The Bees Hummed,  The Birds Sang--All With Some Sad

Sweetness That Seemed Of The Past.

Then The Trail Leading Up West Fork Was Like A Barrier. She Saw Horse

Tracks In It. Next She Descried Boot Tracks The Shape Of Which Was So

Well-Remembered That It Shook Her Heart. There Were Fresh Tracks In The

Sand,  Pointing In The Direction Of The Lodge. Ah! That Was Where Glenn

Lived Now. Carley Strained At Her Will To Keep It Fighting Her Memory. The

Glory And The Dream Were Gone!

A Touch Of Spur Urged Her Mustang Into A Gallop. The Splashing Ford Of The

Creek--The Still,  Eddying Pool Beyond--The Green Orchards--The White Lacy

Waterfall--And Lolomi Lodge!

Nothing Had Altered. But Carley Seemed Returning After Many Years. Slowly

She Dismounted--Slowly She Climbed The Porch Steps. Was There No One At

Home? Yet The Vacant Doorway,  The Silence--Something Attested To The

Knowledge Of Carley's Presence. Then Suddenly Mrs. Hutter Fluttered Out

With Flo Behind Her.

"You Dear Girl--I'm So Glad!" Cried Mrs. Hutter,  Her Voice Trembling.

"I'm Glad To See You,  Too," Said Carley,  Bending To Receive Mrs. Hutter's

Embrace. Carley Saw Dim Eyes--The Stress Of Agitation,  But No Surprise.

"Oh,  Carley!" Burst Out The Western Girl,  With Voice Rich And Full,  Yet

Tremulous.

"Flo,  I've Come To Wish You Happiness," Replied Carley,  Very Low.

Was It The Same Flo? This Seemed More Of A Woman--Strange Now--White And

Strained--Beautiful,  Eager,  Questioning. A Cry Of Gladness Burst From Her.

Carley Felt Herself Enveloped In Strong Close Clasp--And Then A Warm,  Quick

Kiss Of Joy,  It Shocked Her,  Yet Somehow Thrilled. Sure Was The Welcome

Here. Sure Was The Strained Situation,  Also,  But The Voice Rang Too Glad A

Note For Carley. It Touched Her Deeply,  Yet She Could Not Understand. She

Had Not Measured The Depth Of Western Friendship.

"Have You--Seen Glenn?" Queried Flo,  Breathlessly.

"Oh No,  Indeed Not," Replied Carley,  Slowly Gaining Composure. The Nervous

Agitation Of These Women Had Stilled Her Own. "I Just Rode Up The Trail.

Where Is He?"

"He Was Here--A Moment Ago," Panted Flo. "Oh,  Carley,  We Sure Are Locoed.

. . . Why,  We Only Heard An Hour Ago--That You Were At Deep Lake. . . .

Charley Rode In. He Told Us. . . . I Thought My Heart Would Break. Poor

Glenn! When He Heard It. . . . But Never Mind Me. Jump Your Horse And Run

To West Fork!"

The Spirit Of Her Was Like The Strength Of Her Arms As She Hurried Carley

Across The Porch And Shoved Her Down The Steps.

"Climb On And Run,  Carley," Cried Flo. "If You Only Knew How Glad He'll Be

That You Came!"

Carley Leaped Into The Saddle And Wheeled The Mustang. But She Had No

Answer For The Girl's Singular,  Almost Wild Exultance. Then Like A Shot The

Spirited Mustang Was Off Down The Lane. Carley Wondered With Swelling

Heart. Was Her Coming Such A Wondrous Surprise--So Unexpected And Big In

Generosity--Something That Would Make Kilbourne As Glad As It Had Seemed To

Make Flo? Carley Thrilled To This Assurance.

Down The Lane She Flew. The Red Walls Blurred And The Sweet Wind Whipped

Her Face. At The Trail She Swerved The Mustang,  But Did Not Check His Gait.

Under The Great Pines He Sped And Round The Bulging Wall. At The Rocky

Incline Leading To The Creek She Pulled The Fiery Animal To A Trot. How Low

And Clear The Water! As Carley Forded It Fresh Cool Drops Splashed Into Her

Face. Again She Spurred Her Mount And Again Trees And Walls Rushed By. Up

And Down The Yellow Bits Of Trail--On Over The Brown Mats Of Pine Needles

--Until There In The Sunlight Shone The Little Gray Log Cabin With A Tall

Form Standing In The Door. One Instant The Canyon Tilted On End For Carley

And She Was Riding Into The Blue Sky. Then Some Magic Of Soul Sustained

Her,  So That She Saw Clearly. Reaching The Cabin She Reined In Her Mustang.

"Hello,  Glenn! Look Who's Here!" She Cried,  Not Wholly Failing Of Gayety.

He Threw Up His Sombrero.

"Whoopee!" He Yelled,  In Stentorian Voice That Rolled Across The Canyon And

Bellowed In Hollow Echo And Then Clapped From Wall To Wall. The Unexpected

Western Yell,  So Strange From Glenn,  Disconcerted Carley. Had He Only

Answered Her Spirit Of Greeting? Had Hers Rung False?

But He Was