The Call Of The Canyon - Zane Grey (easy readers TXT) 📗
- Author: Zane Grey
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Brought A Sternness To His Face. She Could Hardly Realize She Was Looking
At The Glenn Kilbourne Of Old.
"Come Close To The Fire," He Said, And Pulled Up A Chair For Her. Then He
Threw More Wood Upon The Red Coals. "You Must Be Careful Not To Catch Cold
Out Here. The Altitude Makes A Cold Dangerous. And That Gown Is No
Protection."
"Glenn, One Chair Used To Be Enough For Us," She Said, Archly, Standing
Beside Him.
But He Did Not Respond To Her Hint, And, A Little Affronted, She Accepted
The Proffered Chair. Then He Began To Ask Questions Rapidly. He Was Eager
For News From Home--From His People--From Old Friends. However He Did Not
Inquire Of Carley About Her Friends. She Talked Unremittingly For An Hour,
Before She Satisfied His Hunger. But When Her Turn Came To Ask Questions
She Found Him Reticent.
Chapter 2 Pg 32
He Had Fallen Upon Rather Hard Days At First Out Here In The West; Then His
Health Had Begun To Improve; And As Soon As He Was Able To Work His
Condition Rapidly Changed For The Better; And Now He Was Getting Along
Pretty Well. Carley Felt Hurt At His Apparent Disinclination To Confide In
Her. The Strong Cast Of His Face, As If It Had Been Chiseled In Bronze; The
Stern Set Of His Lips And The Jaw That Protruded Lean And Square Cut; The
Quiet Masked Light Of His Eyes; The Coarse Roughness Of His Brown Hands,
Mute Evidence Of Strenuous Labors--These All Gave A Different Impression
From His Brief Remarks About Himself. Lastly There Was A Little Gray In The
Light-Brown Hair Over His Temples. Glenn Was Only Twenty-Seven, Yet He
Looked Ten Years Older. Studying Him So, With The Memory Of Earlier Years
In Her Mind, She Was Forced To Admit That She Liked Him Infinitely More As
He Was Now. He Seemed Proven. Something Had Made Him A Man. Had It Been
His Love For Her, Or The Army Service, Or The War In France, Or The
Struggle For Life And Health Afterwards? Or Had It Been This Rugged,
Uncouth West? Carley Felt Insidious Jealousy Of This Last Possibility. She
Feared This West. She Was Going To Hate It. She Had Womanly Intuition
Enough To See In Flo Hutter A Girl Somehow To Be Reckoned With. Still,
Carley Would Not Acknowledge To Herself That His Simple, Unsophisticated
Western Girl Could Possibly Be A Rival. Carley Did Not Need To Consider The
Fact That She Had Been Spoiled By The Attention Of Men. It Was Not Her
Vanity That Precluded Flo Hutter As A Rival.
Gradually The Conversation Drew To A Lapse, And It Suited Carley To Let It
Be So. She Watched Glenn As He Gazed Thoughtfully Into The Amber Depths Of
The Fire. What Was Going On In His Mind? Carley's Old Perplexity Suddenly
Had Rebirth. And With It Came An Unfamiliar Fear Which She Could Not
Smother. Every Moment That She Sat There Beside Glenn She Was Realizing
More And More A Yearning, Passionate Love For Him. The Unmistakable
Manifestation Of His Joy At Sight Of Her, The Strong, Almost Rude
Expression Of His Love, Had Called To Some Responsive, But Hitherto Unplumbed Deeps Of
Her. If It Had Not Been For These Undeniable Facts Carley Would Have Been
Panic-Stricken. They Reassured Her, Yet Only Made Her State Of Mind More Dissatisfied.
"Carley, Do You Still Go In For Dancing?" Glenn Asked, Presently, With His
Thoughtful Eyes Turning To Her.
"Of Course. I Like Dancing, And It's About All The Exercise I Get," She
Replied.
"Have The Dances Changed--Again?"
Chapter 2 Pg 33
"It's The Music, Perhaps, That Changes The Dancing. Jazz Is Becoming
Popular. And About All The Crowd Dances Now Is An Infinite Variation Of
Fox-Trot."
"No Waltzing?"
"I Don't Believe I Waltzed Once This Winter."
"Jazz? That's A Sort Of Tinpanning, Jiggly Stuff, Isn't It?"
"Glenn, It's The Fever Of The Public Pulse," Replied Carley. "The Graceful
Waltz, Like The Stately Minuet, Flourished Back In The Days When People
Rested Rather Than Raced."
"More's The Pity," Said Glenn. Then After A Moment, In Which His Gaze
Returned To The Fire, He Inquired Rather Too Casually, "Does Morrison Still
Chase After You?"
"Glenn, I'm Neither Old--Nor Married," She Replied, Laughing.
"No, That's True. But If You Were Married It Wouldn't Make Any Difference
To Morrison."
Carley Could Not Detect Bitterness Or Jealousy In His Voice. She Would Not
Have Been Averse To Hearing Either. She Gathered From His Remark, However,
That He Was Going To Be Harder Than Ever To Understand. What Had She Said
Or Done To Make Him Retreat Within Himself, Aloof, Impersonal, Unfamiliar?
He Did Not Impress Her As Loverlike. What Irony Of Fate Was This That Held
Her There Yearning For His Kisses And Caresses As Never Before, While He
Watched The Fire, And Talked As To A Mere Acquaintance, And Seemed Sad And
Far Away? Or Did She Merely Imagine That? Only One Thing Could She Be Sure
Of At That Moment, And It Was That Pride Would Never Be Her Ally.
"Glenn, Look Here," She Said, Sliding Her Chair Close To His And Holding
Out Her Left Hand, Slim And White, With Its Glittering Diamond On The
Third Finger.
He Took Her Hand In His And Pressed It, And Smiled At Her. "Yes, Carley,
It's A Beautiful, Soft Little Hand. But I Think I'd Like It Better If It
Were Strong And Brown, And Coarse On The Inside--From Useful Work."
"Like Flo Hutter's?" Queried Carley.
Chapter 2 Pg 34
"Yes."
Carley Looked Proudly Into His Eyes. "People Are Born In Different
Stations. I Respect Your Little Western Friend, Glenn, But Could I Wash And
Sweep, Milk Cows And Chop Wood, And All That Sort Of Thing?"
"I Suppose You Couldn't," He Admitted, With A Blunt Little Laugh.
"Would You Want Me To?" She Asked.
"Well, That's Hard To Say," He Replied, Knitting His Brows. "I Hardly Know.
I Think It Depends On You. . . . But If You Did Do Such Work Wouldn't You
Be Happier?"
"Happier! Why Glenn, I'd Be Miserable! ... But Listen. It Wasn't My
Beautiful And Useless Hand I Wanted You To See. It Was My Engagement Ring."
"Oh!--Well?" He Went On, Slowly.
"I've Never Had It Off Since You Left New York," She Said, Softly. "You
Gave It To Me Four Years Ago. Do You Remember? It Was On My Twenty-Second
Birthday. You Said It Would Take Two Months' Salary To Pay The Bill."
"It Sure Did," He Retorted, With A Hint Of Humor.
"Glenn, During The War It Was Not So--So Very Hard To Wear This Ring As An
Engagement Ring Should Be Worn," Said Carley, Growing More Earnest. "But
After The War--Especially After Your Departure West It Was Terribly Hard To
Be True To The Significance Of This Betrothal Ring. There Was A Let-Down In
All Women. Oh, No One Need Tell Me! There Was. And Men Were Affected By
That And The Chaotic Condition Of The Times. New York Was Wild During The
Year Of Your Absence. Prohibition Was A Joke.--Well, I Gadded, Danced,
Dressed, Drank, Smoked, Motored, Just The Same As The Other Women In Our
Crowd. Something Drove Me To. I Never Rested. Excitement Seemed To Be
Happiness--Glenn, I Am Not Making Any Plea To Excuse All That. But I Want
You To Know--How Under Trying Circumstances--I Was Absolutely True To You.
Understand Me. I Mean True As Regards Love. Through It All I Loved You
Just The Same. And Now I'm With You, It Seems, Oh, So Much More! . . . Your
Last Letter Hurt Me. I Don't Know Just How. But I Came West To See You--To
Tell You This--And To Ask You. . . . Do You Want This Ring Back?"
Chapter 2 Pg 35
"Certainly Not," He Replied, Forcibly, With A Dark Flush Spreading Over His
Face.
"Then--You Love Me?" She Whispered.
"Yes--I Love You," He Returned, Deliberately. "And In Spite Of All You
Say--Very Probably More Than You Love Me. . . . But You, Like All Women,
Make Love And Its Expression The Sole Object Of Life. Carley, I Have Been
Concerned With Keeping My Body From The Grave And My Soul From Hell."
"But--Dear--You're Well Now?" She Returned, With Trembling Lips.
"Yes, I've Almost Pulled Out."
"Then What Is Wrong?"
"Wrong?--With Me Or You," He Queried, With Keen, Enigmatical Glance Upon
Her.
"What Is Wrong Between Us? There Is Something."
"Carley, A Man Who Has Been On The Verge--As I Have Been--Seldom Or Never
Comes Back To Happiness. But Perhaps--"
"You Frighten Me," Cried Carley, And, Rising, She Sat Upon The Arm Of His
Chair And Encircled His Neck With Her Arms. "How Can I Help If I Do Not
Understand? Am I So Miserably Little? . . . Glenn, Must I Tell You? No
Woman Can Live Without Love. I Need To Be Loved. That's All That's Wrong
With Me."
"Carley, You Are Still An Imperious, Mushy Girl," Replied Glenn, Taking Her
Into His Arms. "I Need To Be Loved, Too. But That's Not What Is Wrong With
Me. You'll Have To Find It Out Yourself."
"You're A Dear Old Sphinx," She Retorted.
"Listen, Carley," He Said, Earnestly. "About This Love-Making Stuff. Please
Don't Misunderstand Me. I Love You. I'm Starved For Your Kisses. But--Is It
Right To Ask Them?"
"Right! Aren't We Engaged? And Don't I Want To Give Them?"
"If I Were Only Sure We'd Be Married!" He Said, In Low, Tense Voice, As If
Speaking More To Himself.
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