Collected Works of Zane Grey, page 844
“Good morning,” he went on, as an afterthought.
“Good morning,” returned Janey, sweetly. “How are you?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I’m dead.”
“You’re sure a live and handsome corpse,” he said, bluntly. “Lord, I wonder if anything could mar your beauty.”
His tone was one of exasperating resignation, as well as reluctant admiration. To Janey it was like a drink of wine.
“Phil, are you calling on the Lord?”
“I sure am.”
“Well, I think it’s sacrilege!”
“In extreme cases the most degraded of men might naturally express himself so. I own it was silly of me. I can’t expect to be saved,” he said solemnly.
“You shouldn’t expect mercy either, from the Lord — or me.”
“Probably you’ll be more inclined to be merciful if I fetch you a nice hot breakfast,” he said tentatively.
“Yes. Your cooking is your one redeeming virtue.”
“Thanks,” he replied, and turned to go. “Phil, wait,” she called. “What did I do last night?”
“Do? Why, nothing in particular.”
“I remember being knocked flat by a stroke of lightning. That must have dazed me, for the rest seems a sort of dim horror.”
“It was a bad electric storm even for this desert. No wonder you were shocked. You see it’s very much worse when you’re walled in by cliffs. The echoes crack from cliff to cliff — truly terrific.”
“Was I frightened?”
“Rather.”
“Did I scream or — say anything?”
“You told me I had taken you from yourself.”
“Heavens!... What did I do?” she exclaimed, intensely curious.
“I fear it would embarrass you.”
“No doubt. That’s why I insist. I want to know.”
“Well, I picked you up, intending to carry you up here, where it’s more sheltered. But you grabbed me — hid your face — and hung on as if for dear life. So I just held you till the storm was over.”
“Indeed!... Did the storm last long?”
“Hours.”
Janey gave him an inscrutable glance and smile.
“I presume you would have a storm like that every night.”
“Yes. I would if I had the power,” he said, intensely.
“You would be worse than cruel,” she rejoined, gravely. “My mother was a very highly organized and sensitive person, inordinately afraid of lightning and thunder. I was prematurely born after a storm... One of the recollections of my childhood is that mother used to take me into a dark hallway during a storm.”
“I’m sorry I said that,” he replied, and left. Presently he fetched up her breakfast and retired rather hurriedly, without speaking again. Janey struggled to a sitting posture, and applied herself diligently to the ham and eggs, toasted biscuit, well buttered, and coffee. Truly Phillip Randolph was astounding. Where did he get fresh eggs? Of course he had fetched them. But how? Perhaps he believed that the way to a woman’s heart lay through her stomach.
Janey had intended to stay in bed and rest. But one look over the bulge of rock up at lofty golden rims and down into a wilderness of bright green canyon put idleness out of the question. She would explore Beckyshibeta if she had to drag herself around. Consulting her little mirror she saw that her face had been sunburned, but not unbecomingly so. And the other sunburn, even if it did hurt, did not matter, any more than her shriveled and shrunken garments. There was no danger of any critical and supercilious woman seeing her. Suppose Bert Durland’s mother could see her in this outfit! Janey giggled. It would be priceless. Nevertheless she did not care for that catastrophe.
She got up groaning. Muscles and bones were no doubt essential to the human frame, but this morning she would rather have dispensed with them. She was weak, lame, sore and burned. The band of sunburn above her knees was particularly annoying.
“Oooo!” moaned Janey, as she drew herself erect. “Why did I leave home?”
Finally she wore off the stiffness to the extent of being able to walk; then she laboriously climbed down to a level and gazed about her. The place appeared to be simply an enormous cavern with a dome higher than that of the Grand Central Station, which was going some, Janey admitted. It opened on a level bench that extended out over a green canyon, perhaps half a mile wide and twice as long. How refreshing and colorful the different kinds of foliage! It contrasted beautifully with the red and gold of gorgeous colossal cliffs that sheered up as if to the very sky. A sullen roar of water greeted Janey’s ears. She heard the twitter of birds in the cedars and cottonwoods. All appeared bright and clean, with a warm sun shining after the storm. Thin waterfalls were dropping over the cliffs, and at the apex of the canyon, its upper end, a heavy torrent was tumbling down over the broken masses of rocks.
These were Janey’s first impressions and sensations. She walked out of the shade into the sunshine. Every step was an effort, but resulted in a wonderful reward in an enlargement of her view of the weird and magnificent surroundings. The stone walls were higher than any New York skyscraper. They were full of great caverns and hollows near their base, and above were cracked and stained and covered with moss, with niches and ledges where green growths grew. Janey stood spellbound. Beckyshibeta! What a marvelous place! It was majestic, grand, and increased in beauty and wonder as she grasped its true perspective. The canyon stunned her too, with its shut-in solitude.
“Oh, glorious!” murmured Janey. “I had no idea it was like this. He never said so. Mr. Bennet didn’t lead me to expect much. But this!”
Janey sat down in the sun, and time was as nothing. She might have been there minutes or an hour. It was long, however, for cramped muscles told her so. She breathed it all in. Her eyes feasted. Something seemed transformed within her. What had she missed all these idle years? Never, except in a highly colored romance or two, had she read of such places as this, and she had believed them merely fiction. But no pen, no brush could do justice to the truth of Beckyshibeta.
Janey felt that she would be unutterably grateful to Randolph always. Still she could not let him know. Where was he anyhow? For a kidnaper who had made off with a victim, he was certainly elusive.
She went in search of him. Owing to her crippled condition and the awesome nature of the place, Janey did not make much progress. She got around an immense corner of wall, below the cavern he had chosen for their camp, and found another cave higher and larger than the first. It was full of the ruins of sections of wall that had fallen. Janey threaded slow passage between blocks of rock and over weathered slides to another projecting corner which she thought hid the mouth of the canyon. The roar of water grew louder. Her way was so beset with obstacles that she was long in reaching her objective. But at last she got around the corner.
If she had gazed and gaped before, what did she do now? All the details she had seen were here repeated and magnified. In addition, a wicked red stream went brawling down in a series of rapids. The canyon opened into a larger one, bewildering to Janey’s eyes.
Next she spotted Randolph digging with a pick. He stood just round the jutting point of wall, and it had been the cracking of his pick that attracted her attention. Janey made her way to him. Strange he did not see her! He was shamming or absorbed, not improbably the latter. He dug like a man who had found the foot of the rainbow.
Janey hailed him with: “Hey, there, subway digger!”
Randolph was startled. He whirled and dropped his pick. Janey did not need to be told that he had actually forgotten her.
“Why — Miss Endicott — you — I he stammered.
“Fine morning on the avenue,” she returned.
“It is fine,” he said, recovering himself, and reaching for the pick.
“Phillip, you forgot me, didn’t you?”
“I’m afraid I did.”
“Left me alone to be eaten by grizzly bears or run off and get lost or anything!”
“There are no bears. And you can’t run off until the creek falls. Nor can anybody get across to frighten you.”
“Very well, but that doesn’t explain your leaving me alone.”
“No, it doesn’t. To be honest, I just plain forgot you.”
“Can you beat that!... You’re a fine kidnaper. As you evidently didn’t intend to maltreat me, I certainly expected to be taken care of, amused and instructed. And you forget me!”
“I always forget everything, when I come to Beckyshibeta,” he replied, apologetically. “Everything except that here, somewhere in these caverns, is buried the lost pueblo of Beckyshibeta. I know it. I have read the signs... I daresay if I had run off with Cleopatra or Helen of Troy, I’d have forgotten.”
Janey was impressed again by his singular simplicity and passion. The man seemed so keen, so sincere, so strong and hopeful that she almost wished that he would find the treasure upon which he set such store.
“I’ll find Beckyshibeta for you,” she said, impulsively.
He stared, then laughed. “I suppose that’d be woman’s revenge. To heap coals of fire upon my head. To flay me with remorse... But, fun or no fun, please don’t find Beckyshibeta for me.”
“Why not? It seems to be your driving passion. Most men I know are driven by other motives. Money, power, fame.”
“Beckyshibeta would give me all these. But I’ve never thought of them.”
“Then why don’t you want me to find it?”
“I’m quite mad enough over you now. If you found Beckyshibeta, I—”
“Oh. So that’s it? That would be a calamity.”
“I agree with you. Therefore be careful not to go digging around these caves. As to that, you stay in camp and stop following me.”
“I’ll follow you if I want to — but I don’t,” retorted Janey.
“I don’t approve of you running around here,” he said, severely. “I thought you’d rest all day.”
“Take me back,” returned Janey, imperiously.
“You found your way here alone. Now go back and stay there,” he ordered.
Janey did not know whether to swear or laugh at him. He was most decidedly in earnest. It might be well to save the profanity for a more fitting time. So she laughed.
“My Lord, I go,” she said. “When will it please you to return to our castle?”
“I’ll be along later,” he rejoined, quite oblivious to her levity. “You can fix yourself some lunch.”
Whereupon Janey left him to his explorations and turned back, pondering the interview. Every encounter with Randolph left her unsatisfied, but she could not figure out why. It took her a good half hour, resting frequently, to retrace her steps; and all this while she divided her thoughts between Randolph and Beckyshibeta. At last she reached camp and found a comfortable slab. She was exhausted, yet the exertion had been good for her.
“Dad was not such a damn fool, after all,” soliloquized Janey. “I like Phillip Randolph... It’s up to me to find out why. I’m sorry Dad picked him to run off with me. Because I want to hate him and foil him utterly. But thank the Lord I’ve finally run into one man who isn’t drunk with alcohol, money or women.”
Janey found resting so good that she went back to her blankets, and did such an unheard-of thing as to fall asleep in the daytime. When she awoke it was the middle of the afternoon. She felt better. Randolph had not returned. The fact that he stayed away from her, on any pretext, astonished Janey. She was unaccustomed to that in men in her society. She had scarcely believed that he would remain away all day. “He’s gone on me, I don’t think,” she told herself, emphatically. She was puzzled, piqued, amused, resentful, and something else she did not quite realize yet. It was, however, having a salutary effect.
Janey contented herself with watching the changing afternoon lights in the canyon; and toward sunset, which came early, owing to the high walls, she thought she had been transported to some enchanted world. She saw the top of a distant mesa turn bright gold; exquisite rays of indescribably pure and beautiful light streamed down over the rims; in the distance, far through the gateway of the canyon, she saw purple of so royal a hue that she exclaimed in delight; walls were shrouded in pink haze, and near at hand the amber air seemed to float over the soft green foliage.
“I’m glad to be here,” sighed Janey. And she began to discover hidden depths in herself. It might be possible that she could be self-sufficient for a while. There was something incalculably strong working against the habit of mind that had been hers. Clothes, luxury, amusement, idleness, the theater, the dance, the ever-present necessity of unlimited money, the attention of men — these were most astonishingly unnecessary here. Janey shook off the spell. Beckyshibeta was only a hole in the rocks. Beautiful, strange, wild, yes, but it was not a place to change one’s soul. And she resented the awakening, insistent tearing at her mind.
The sun had set and the sky was full of rosy clouds when Randolph returned, dusty and tired, wiping his tanned face. He seemed different to Janey, or she saw him with different eyes. There was something proven about him.
“How’s my fair prisoner?” he asked.
“If I’m better in body and mind, I can’t thank you for it,” she replied.
“Quien sabe?” he returned. “Do you like Beckyshibeta?”
“This terrible shut-in lonely hole in the rocks? Heavens!” she ejaculated, languidly. “Janey, be honest,” he said.
“Why, Phillip, honest is my middle name,” she averred.
“No. It might be game, but it’s not honest. You are as crooked as a rail fence mentally... Please be honest once, Janey.”
“Why?” she inquired, curious, in spite of her frivolity.
“Because I have always connected you somehow with Beckyshibeta. Strange, but it’s so. I believed you would like it — be inspired, perhaps softened.”
“Phillip, am I hard?”
“Hard as these rocks.”
“You are not flattering.”
“Maybe not. But I’m honest,” he said, stoutly.
“No, you’re not. You’re not straight about this stunt of yours. Dragging me off here!” And she bent penetrating eyes on Randolph.
“You will find me honest in the end,” he replied, the dark red blood staining his cheek.
“Ah-huh,” returned Janey, doubtfully.
“Are you going to be honest or not?” he inquired, sharply. “I still have faith left in you — enough to believe you’re not utterly lost to — to the dream of glory of nature.”
“Ain’t nature grand?” rejoined Janey, with simpering impudence.
“Janey Endicott, if you don’t love Beckyshibeta, I shall despise you,” he declared, hotly.
There was no doubt about this, Janey saw. Randolph was at war with the world — backing his faith in her against the materialism and paganism of the modern day. It thrilled Janey — quite robbed her of her contrariness.
“Philip, I’d like to make you despise me, but I can’t honestly. I do love Beckyshibeta, and I am glad you dragged me here,” she said, with a rich note in her voice, and turned away her face.
“Thank you. That will help,” he replied, with emotion.
Janey watched him go down to the creek with the water bucket. It would hardly do, Janey considered, for her to think seriously about him just then. But she realized she must, sooner or later, have a reckoning with herself. For the present, she must stick to her part, and not let any earnestness or eloquence of Randolph’s betray her into honesty again.
Randolph returned whistling. Besides the brimming bucket, he carried a log of wood big enough to crush most men Janey knew. She leisurely approached the camp and watched him swing an ax. He started a fire, put on the oven, and then went for more wood. This time he brought such a big load that Janey objected.
“You’ll break your back,” she said in alarm. “Phillip, you may not be the most desirable of companions, but you’re better than a cripple. Please be careful.”
“Say, I’m not half a man. You ought to see an Indian pack in firewood. He fetches a whole tree... But come to think of it, if that causes you concern, I’ll try a big load next time.”
Janey did not answer this. She sat down close by and watched him get supper.
“Phillip, how long will our supplies last — grub, as the cowboys call it?” she asked.
“I packed enough for three weeks, but did not allow for your unsuspected capacity. I daresay, if I stint myself, it’ll last ten days.”
“And then what?”
“Sufficient unto the day. We can subsist on rabbits, or I can ride to an Indian camp over here and get more. Or — we can return to the post.”
“What! You’d take me back there — to face my father, the Bennets and the cowboys, knowing me ruined, disgraced?” she exclaimed.
“Sure, I will,” he replied, cheerfully.
“Philip, if any other man had done this thing to me, and fetched me back — what would you do?”
“Do? A whole lot. I’d kill him.”
“Exactly. But it’s all right for you to do it?”
“Janey, my intentions are honorable.”
“Do you imagine you can make the cowboys believe that?”
“I confess I’m a little worried on that score,” he replied, ponderingly. “As a rule cowboys are obtuse and inclined to be bullheaded. Then they were so absurdly infatuated, and each of them thought he owned you. Stupid, conceited jackasses! Still they had ample encouragement.”
Janey relapsed into silence, the better to enjoy the ever-increasing humor of this situation, and the deliciousness of another sentiment that seemed hard to define. Presently Randolph began to talk, as if she were the most interested of comrades, as indeed, if the truth were admitted, she was.
“I followed another blind lead today, all to no avail. Eight hours of digging for nothing. How often have I done that here! But I know Beckyshibeta is buried here somewhere. If I only had unlimited time! But the department insists on definite rewards, so to speak. I have to find things — bones, pottery, stone utensils and weapons. In short, I am forced to explore where they tell me to and not where I want to. Elliot, head of our department, was out last year. I think I told you. Awful pill — Elliot! He’s only a surface scratcher. Well, he belittled my theory. He said there was little sign of ancient pueblo here at Beckyshibeta... And so I can get only snatches at work here.”
