The Call Of The Canyon - Zane Grey (easy readers TXT) 📗

Feverishly,  Page After Page,  To Glenn,

Only To Destroy What She Had Written. She Could Not Keep Her Heart Out Of

Her Words,  Nor A Hint Of What Was Becoming A Sleepless And Eternal Regret.

She Wrote Until A Late Hour,  And At Last Composed A Letter She Knew Did Not

Ring True,  So Stilted And Restrained Was It In All Passages Save Those

Concerning News Of Glenn's Comrade And Of Her Own Friends. "I'll

Never--Never Write Him Again," She Averred With Stiff Lips,  And Next Moment

Could Have Laughed In Mockery At The Bitter Truth. If She Had Ever Had Any

Courage,  Glenn's Letter Had Destroyed It. But Had It Not Been A Kind Of

Selfish,  False Courage,  Roused To Hide Her Hurt,  To Save Her Own Future?

Courage Should Have A Thought Of Others. Yet Shamed One Moment At The

Consciousness She Would Write Glenn Again And Again,  And Exultant The Next

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With The Clamouring Love,  She Seemed To Have Climbed Beyond The Self That

Had Striven To Forget. She Would Remember And Think Though She Died Of

Longing.

 

Carley,  Like A Drowning Woman,  Caught At Straws. What A Relief And Joy To

Give Up That Endless Nagging At Her Mind! For Months She Had Kept

Ceaselessly Active,  By Associations Which Were Of No Help To Her And Which

Did Not Make Her Happy,  In Her Determination To Forget. Suddenly Then She

Gave Up To Remembrance. She Would Cease Trying To Get Over Her Love For

Glenn,  And Think Of Him And Dream About Him As Much As Memory Dictated.

This Must Constitute The Only Happiness She Could Have.

 

The Change From Strife To Surrender Was So Novel And Sweet That For Days

She Felt Renewed. It Was Augmented By Her Visits To The Hospital In Bedford

Park. Through Her Bountiful Presence Virgil Rust And His Comrades Had Many

Dull Hours Of Pain And Weariness Alleviated And Brightened. Interesting

Herself In The Condition Of The Seriously Disabled Soldiers And Possibility

Of Their Future Took Time And Work Carley Gave Willingly And Gladly. At

First She Endeavored To Get Acquaintances With Means And Leisure To Help

The Boys,  But These Overtures Met With Such Little Success That She Quit

Wasting Valuable Time She Could Herself Devote To Their Interests.

 

Thus Several Weeks Swiftly Passed By. Several Soldiers Who Had Been More

Seriously Injured Than Rust Improved To The Extent That They Were

Discharged. But Rust Gained Little Or Nothing. The Nurse And Doctor Both

Informed Carley That Rust Brightened For Her,  But When She Was Gone He

Lapsed Into Somber Indifference. He Did Not Care Whether He Ate Or Not,  Or

Whether He Got Well Or Died.

 

"If I Do Pull Out,  Where'll I Go And What'll I Do?" He Once Asked The

Nurse.

 

Carley Knew That Rust's Hurt Was More Than Loss Of A Leg,  And She Decided

To Talk Earnestly To Him And Try To Win Him To Hope And Effort. He Had Come

To Have A Sort Of Reverence For Her. So,  Biding Her Time,  She At Length

Found Opportunity To Approach His Bed While His Comrades Were Asleep Or Out

Of Hearing. He Endeavored To Laugh Her Off,  And Then Tried Subterfuge,  And

Lastly He Cast Off His Mask And Let Her See His Naked Soul.

 

"Carley,  I Don't Want Your Money Or That Of Your Kind Friends--Whoever They

Are--You Say Will Help Me To Get Into Business," He Said. "God Knows 

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Thank You And It Warms Me Inside To Find Some One Who Appreciates What I've

Given. But I Don't Want Charity. . . . And I Guess I'm Pretty Sick Of The

Game. I'm Sorry The Boches Didn't Do The Job Right."

 

"Rust,  That Is Morbid Talk," Replied Carley. "You're Ill And You Just Can't

See Any Hope. You Must Cheer Up--Fight Yourself; And Look At The Brighter

Side. It's A Horrible Pity You Must Be A Cripple,  But Rust,  Indeed Life Can

Be Worth Living If You Make It So."

 

"How Could There Be A Brighter Side When A Man's Only Half A Man--" He

Queried,  Bitterly.

 

"You Can Be Just As Much A Man As Ever," Persisted Carley,  Trying To Smile

When She Wanted To Cry.

 

"Could You Care For A Man With Only One Leg?" He Asked,  Deliberately.

 

"What A Question! Why,  Of Course I Could!"

 

"Well,  Maybe You Are Different. Glenn Always Swore Even If He Was Killed No

Slacker Or No Rich Guy Left At Home Could Ever Get You. Maybe You Haven't

Any Idea How Much It Means To Us Fellows To Know There Are True And

Faithful Girls. But I'll Tell You,  Carley,  We Fellows Who Went Across Got

To See Things Strange When We Came Home. The Good Old U. S. Needs A Lot Of

Faithful Girls Just Now,  Believe Me."

 

"Indeed That's True," Replied Carley. "It's A Hard Time For Everybody,  And

Particularly You Boys Who Have Lost So--So Much."

 

"I Lost All,  Except My Life--And I Wish To God I'd Lost That," He Replied,

Gloomily.

 

"Oh,  Don't Talk So!" Implored Carley In Distress. "Forgive Me,  Rust,  If I

Hurt You. But I Must Tell You--That--That Glenn Wrote Me--You'd Lost Your

Girl. Oh,  I'm Sorry! It Is Dreadful For You Now. But If You Got Well--And

Went To Work--And Took Up Life Where You Left It--Why Soon Your Pain Would

Grow Easier. And You'd Find Some Happiness Yet."

 

"Never For Me In This World."

 

"But Why,  Rust,  Why? You're No--No--Oh! I Mean You Have Intelligence And

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Courage. Why Isn't There Anything Left For You?"

 

"Because Something Here's Been Killed," He Replied,  And Put His Hand To His

Heart.

 

"Your Faith? Your Love Of--Of Everything? Did The War Kill It?"

 

"I'd Gotten Over That,  Maybe," He Said,  Drearily,  With His Somber Eyes On

Space That Seemed Lettered For Him. "But She Half Murdered It--And They Did

The Rest."

 

"They? Whom Do You Mean,  Rust?"

 

"Why,  Carley,  I Mean The People I Lost My Leg For!" He Replied,  With

Terrible Softness.

 

"The British? The French?" She Queried,  In Bewilderment.

 

"No!" He Cried,  And Turned His Face To The Wall.

 

Carley Dared Not Ask Him More. She Was Shocked. How Helplessly Impotent All

Her Earnest Sympathy! No Longer Could She Feel An Impersonal,  However

Kindly,  Interest In This Man. His Last Ringing Word Had Linked Her Also To

His Misfortune And His Suffering. Suddenly He Turned Away From The Wall.

She Saw Him Swallow Laboriously. How Tragic That Thin,  Shadowed Face Of

Agony! Carley Saw It Differently. But For The Beautiful Softness Of Light

In His Eyes,  She Would Have Been Unable To Endure Gazing Longer.

 

"Carley,  I'm Bitter," He Said,  "But I'm Not Rancorous And Callous,  Like Some

Of The Boys. I Know If You'd Been My Girl You'd Have Stuck To Me."

 

"Yes," Carley Whispered.

 

"That Makes A Difference," He Went On,  With A Sad Smile. "You See,  We

Soldiers All Had Feelings. And In One Thing We All Felt Alike. That Was We

Were Going To Fight For Our Homes And Our Women. I Should Say Women First.

No Matter What We Read Or Heard About Standing By Our Allies,  Fighting For

Liberty Or Civilization,  The Truth Was We All Felt The Same,  Even If We

Never Breathed It. . . . Glenn Fought For You. I Fought For Nell. . . . We

Were Not Going To Let The Huns Treat You As They Treated French And Belgian

Girls. . . . And Think! Nell Was Engaged To Me--She Loved Me--And,  By God!

She Married A Slacker When I Lay Half Dead On The Battlefield!"

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"She Was Not Worth Loving Or Fighting For," Said Carley,  With Agitation.

 

"Ah! Now You've Said Something," He Declared. "If I Can Only Hold To That

Truth! What Does One Girl Amount To? I Do Not Count. It Is The Sum That

Counts. We Love America--Our Homes--Our Women! . . . Carley,  I've Had

Comfort And Strength Come To Me Through You. Glenn Will Have His Reward In

Your Love. Somehow I Seem To Share It,  A Little. Poor Glenn! He Got His,

Too. Why,  Carley,  That Guy Wouldn't Let You Do What He Could Do For You. He

Was Cut To Pieces--"

 

"Please--Rust--Don't Say Any More. I Am Unstrung," She Pleaded.

 

"Why Not? It's Due You To Know How Splendid Glenn Was. . . . I Tell You,

Carley,  All The Boys Here Love You For The Way You've Stuck To Glenn. Some

Of Them Knew Him,  And I've Told The Rest. We Thought He'd Never Pull

Through. But He Has,  And We Know How You Helped. Going West To See Him! He

Didn't Write It To Me,  But I Know. . . . I'm Wise. I'm Happy For Him--The

Lucky Dog. Next Time You Go West--"

 

"Hush!" Cried Carley. She Could Endure No More. She Could No Longer Be A

Lie.

 

"You're White--You're Shaking," Exclaimed Rust,  In Concern. "Oh,  I--What

Did I Say? Forgive Me--"

 

"Rust,  I Am No More Worth Loving And Fighting For Than Your Nell."

 

"What!" He Ejaculated.

 

"I Have Not Told You The Truth," She Said,  Swiftly. "I Have Let You Believe

A Lie. . . . I Shall Never Marry Glenn. I Broke My Engagement To Him."

 

Slowly Rust Sank Back Upon The Pillow,  His Large Luminous Eyes Piercingly

Fixed Upon Her,  As If He Would Read Her Soul.

 

"I Went West--Yes--" Continued Carley. "But It Was Selfishly. I Wanted

Glenn To Come Back Here. . . . He Had Suffered As You Have. He Nearly Died.

But He Fought--He Fought--Oh! He Went Through Hell! And After A Long,  Slow,

Horrible Struggle He Began To Mend. He Worked. He Went To Raising Hogs. He

Lived Alone.