Vingie E. Roe

“ And yet home for her was “the blue sky above, the wind in the pine-tops, the sound of water lapping at the prow of a canoe.” So she had said on that last day they spoke together in happiness, passing in diffident joy to the gate to meet De Courtenay's fateful messenger.
Of all women in the vast world she was the one woman. There was never another face with that strange allurement, that baffling light of strength and tenderness.
Sore, sore, indeed, was the heart of the young factor of Fort de Seviere as he lay under the stars and listened to the death-wail in the darkened camp. ”

“ And so it was that Sonny Fair came into the warmth and comfort of fire and lamplight, of chairs and tables, and beds with deep shuck-ticks, and to the loving arms of woman-kind, after two years of riding on the big black’s rump, of sleeping on the earth beside a campfire, and the long lonely days of waiting.
And, faithful as his shadow, Dirk the Collie sat on the stone that formed the doorstep and refused to budge until both Nance and Sonny convinced him that all was well, and that this was home. ”

“ A lioness are you, oh, maid with the Madonna face! No woman, but a creature of the wild, superb in courage and unknown to fear! I saw it in your face that day in De Seviere,—the something alien to the common race, the spark, the light; oh, I know not what it is, save that it is Divine and yet splendidly of the earth! We are matched in heart. Venturers both, and like true venturers we shall take the longest trail with a laugh and our hands together,—and trust to the Aftermath to give us largess of that love which has its beginning in such glorious wise. ”

“ For five years he had lived at Last’s, under master and mistress, content, happy. The half-remembered world of below had never called him. The light on the table under the swinging lamp with Tharon’s face therein, the murmur of the stream through her garden, the whisper of the cottonwoods, these had been sufficient. He had, subconsciously, thanked his Maker for these things, had served them with a whole heart. They had been his all, his life. Now the cottonwoods seemed far away, remote, the life of the deep ranch house a thing of long ago. ”

“ The river itself talked to the boulders in its bed, and the little winds that drew up the myriad defiles were sweet with the fragrance of pines and that nameless scent of water which cannot be described. All these things were the joy of life to Nance.
She loved them with a passion whose force she did not comprehend. They were what sweetened her hard and ceaseless toil, what made of each new day in her monotonous round something to be met with eager gladness, to be lived through joyfully, missing nothing of the promise of dawn, the fulfillment of noon, the blessing of twilight. ”

“ Never before in her life had she thought of a man's eyes as she thought of McElroy's, thrilling to the very tips of her fingers at memory of the blue fire in them, and never before had she been conscious of anything as she was conscious of the flesh on her shoulders where his hands had rested, her lips sealed under the warm caress of his. Verily, there was nowhere another such man as this one who knew the longing of the wild as did she, whose heart responded to the same call of the great wilderness. ”

“ In the Cañon Country the snow had disappeared from most of the high points. Red, black, yellow, the great face of the encircling Wall stood in everlasting majesty, looking down upon the level cup of Lost Valley. The unspeakable upheaval of peaks and crags, of cañons and splits and unfathomable depths, was almost a sealed book to the denizens of the Valley. There were those who knew False Ridge.
There were those who said they knew more. Many a man had adventured therein, and few had returned to tell of their adventures. ”

“ I wouldn’t dare to live—for if they kill you—Oh, that black hatred which has stirred in me so long, is getting beyond my strength to hold it! I’ll go mad and turn killer, Brand if they kill you! I know it—I feel it here——” she laid eloquent hands on her heart—“and then my soul will go into the pit of damnation.”
“Hush!” said Fair holding her to him fiercely, “for the love of Heaven, don’t talk so, child! And get that thought out of your head. Whatever happens, keep your hands clean from that crowd of ruffians—and always remember that Brand Fair loved you. ”

“ So she lay by the willows and hummed a sliding tune, a soft, sweet thing of minors and high notes falling, like rippling waters, and lazily watched the high white clouds sail by.
And as she lay she became conscious of something else in the drowsing land beside herself and her horse. She felt it first, this presence––a thin, dim vibration that sang in the earth beneath her. It stopped the wordless song on her lips, stilled the breath in her throat, set every nerve in her to listening, as it were.
Presently she sat up and felt quickly for the gun-butts in their scabbards. ”

“ But for that one hour at the factory steps what time she lay in McElroy's arms and saw Maren Le Moyne pause at the corner, all would be well.
Young Marc, Dupre would be singing his gay French songs with his red cap tilted on his curls, that handsome Nor'wester of the Saskatchewan would be going his merry way, loving here and there,—instead of bleaching their bones in some distant forest, as the whispers said; and, last of all, this man she loved with all the intensity of her soul would be brown and strong with life, not the weary wreck of a man who gazed into the fire and would not get well. ”