Deep Into Cattle Land

: The Virginian

Morning had been for some while astir in Medicine Bow before I left my

quilts. The new day and its doings began around me in the store, chiefly

at the grocery counter. Dry-goods were not in great request. The early

rising cow-boys were off again to their work; and those to whom their

night's holiday had left any dollars were spending these for tobacco, or

cartridges, or canned provisions for the journey to their distant

camps. Sardines were called for, and potted chicken, and devilled ham:

a sophisticated nourishment, at first sight, for these sons of the

sage-brush. But portable ready-made food plays of necessity a great part

in the opening of a new country. These picnic pots and cans were the

first of her trophies that Civilization dropped upon Wyoming's virgin

soil. The cow-boy is now gone to worlds invisible; the wind has blown

away the white ashes of his camp-fires; but the empty sardine box lies

rusting over the face of the Western earth.



So through my eyes half closed I watched the sale of these tins, and

grew familiar with the ham's inevitable trademark--that label with the

devil and his horns and hoofs and tail very pronounced, all colored a

sultry prodigious scarlet. And when each horseman had made his purchase,

he would trail his spurs over the floor, and presently the sound of his

horse's hoofs would be the last of him. Through my dozing attention came

various fragments of talk, and sometimes useful bits of knowledge. For

instance, I learned the true value of tomatoes in this country. One

fellow was buying two cans of them.



"Meadow Creek dry already?" commented the proprietor.



"Been dry ten days," the young cow-boy informed him. And it appeared

that along the road he was going, water would not be reached much before

sundown, because this Meadow Creek had ceased to run. His tomatoes were

for drink. And thus they have refreshed me many times since.



"No beer?" suggested the proprietor.



The boy made a shuddering face. "Don't say its name to me!" he

exclaimed. "I couldn't hold my breakfast down." He rang his silver money

upon the counter. "I've swore off for three months," he stated. "I'm

going to be as pure as the snow!" And away he went jingling out of the

door, to ride seventy-five miles. Three more months of hard, unsheltered

work, and he would ride into town again, with his adolescent blood

crying aloud for its own.



"I'm obliged," said a new voice, rousing me from a new doze. "She's

easier this morning, since the medicine." This was the engineer, whose

sick wife had brought a hush over Medicine Bow's rioting. "I'll give her

them flowers soon as she wakes," he added.



"Flowers?" repeated the proprietor.



"You didn't leave that bunch at our door?"



"Wish I'd thought to do it."



"She likes to see flowers," said the engineer. And he walked out slowly,

with his thanks unachieved. He returned at once with the Virginian; for

in the band of the Virginian's hat were two or three blossoms.



"It don't need mentioning," the Southerner was saying, embarrassed by

any expression of thanks. "If we had knowed last night--"



"You didn't disturb her any," broke in the engineer. "She's easier this

morning. I'll tell her about them flowers."



"Why, it don't need mentioning," the Virginian again protested, almost

crossly. "The little things looked kind o' fresh, and I just picked

them." His eye now fell upon me, where I lay upon the counter. "I reckon

breakfast will be getting through," he remarked.



I was soon at the wash trough. It was only half-past six, but many had

been before me,--one glance at the roller-towel told me that. I was

afraid to ask the landlady for a clean one, and so I found a fresh

handkerchief, and accomplished a sparing toilet. In the midst of this

the drummers joined me, one by one, and they used the degraded towel

without hesitation. In a way they had the best of me; filth was nothing

to them.



The latest risers in Medicine Bow, we sat at breakfast together; and

they essayed some light familiarities with the landlady. But these

experiments were failures. Her eyes did not see, nor did her ears

hear them. She brought the coffee and the bacon with a sedateness that

propriety itself could scarce have surpassed. Yet impropriety lurked

noiselessly all over her. You could not have specified how; it was

interblended with her sum total. Silence was her apparent habit and her

weapon; but the American drummer found that she could speak to the point

when need came for this. During the meal he had praised her golden

hair. It was golden indeed, and worth a high compliment; but his kind

displeased her. She had let it pass, however, with no more than a cool

stare. But on taking his leave, when he came to pay for the meal, he

pushed it too far.



"Pity this must be our last," he said; and as it brought no answer,

"Ever travel?" he inquired. "Where I go, there's room for a pair of us."



"Then you'd better find another jackass," she replied quietly.



I was glad that I had not asked for a clean towel.



From the commercial travellers I now separated myself, and wandered

alone in pleasurable aimlessness. It was seven o'clock. Medicine

Bow stood voiceless and unpeopled. The cow-boys had melted away. The

inhabitants were indoors, pursuing the business or the idleness of the

forenoon. Visible motion there was none. No shell upon the dry sands

could lie more lifeless than Medicine Bow. Looking in at the store,

I saw the proprietor sitting with his pipe extinct. Looking in at the

saloon, I saw the dealer dealing dumbly to himself. Up in the sky there

was not a cloud nor a bird, and on the earth the lightest straw

lay becalmed. Once I saw the Virginian at an open door, where the

golden-haired landlady stood talking with him. Sometimes I strolled in

the town, and sometimes out on the plain I lay down with my day dreams

in the sagebrush. Pale herds of antelope were in the distance, and near

by the demure prairie-dogs sat up and scrutinized me. Steve, Trampas,

the riot of horsemen, my lost trunk, Uncle Hughey, with his abortive

brides--all things merged in my thoughts in a huge, delicious

indifference. It was like swimming slowly at random in an ocean that was

smooth, and neither too cool nor too warm. And before I knew it, five

lazy imperceptible hours had gone thus. There was the Union Pacific

train, coming as if from shores forgotten.



Its approach was silent and long drawn out. I easily reached town and

the platform before it had finished watering at the tank. It moved up,

made a short halt, I saw my trunk come out of it, and then it moved away

silently as it had come, smoking and dwindling into distance unknown.



Beside my trunk was one other, tied extravagantly with white ribbon. The

fluttering bows caught my attention, and now I suddenly saw a perfectly

new sight. The Virginian was further down the platform, doubled up with

laughing. It was good to know that with sufficient cause he could laugh

like this; a smile had thus far been his limit of external mirth.

Rice now flew against my hat, and hissing gusts of rice spouted on the

platform. All the men left in Medicine Bow appeared like magic, and more

rice choked the atmosphere. Through the general clamor a cracked voice

said, "Don't hit her in the eye, boys!" and Uncle Hughey rushed proudly

by me with an actual wife on his arm. She could easily have been his

granddaughter. They got at once into a vehicle. The trunk was lifted in

behind. And amid cheers, rice, shoes, and broad felicitations, the pair

drove out of town, Uncle Hughey shrieking to the horses and the bride

waving unabashed adieus.



The word had come over the wires from Laramie: "Uncle Hughey has made

it this time. Expect him on to-day's number two." And Medicine Bow had

expected him.



Many words arose on the departure of the new-married couple.



"Who's she?"



"What's he got for her?"



"Got a gold mine up Bear Creek."



And after comment and prophecy, Medicine Bow returned to its dinner.



This meal was my last here for a long while. The Virginian's

responsibility now returned; duty drove the Judge's trustworthy man

to take care of me again. He had not once sought my society of his own

accord; his distaste for what he supposed me to be (I don't exactly know

what this was) remained unshaken. I have thought that matters of dress

and speech should not carry with them so much mistrust in our democracy;

thieves are presumed innocent until proved guilty, but a starched collar

is condemned at once. Perfect civility and obligingness I certainly did

receive from the Virginian, only not a word of fellowship. He harnessed

the horses, got my trunk, and gave me some advice about taking

provisions for our journey, something more palatable than what food we

should find along the road. It was well thought of, and I bought quite a

parcel of dainties, feeling that he would despise both them and me. And

thus I took my seat beside him, wondering what we should manage to talk

about for two hundred and sixty-three miles.



Farewell in those days was not said in Cattle Land. Acquaintances

watched our departure with a nod or with nothing, and the nearest

approach to "Good-by" was the proprietor's "So-long." But I caught sight

of one farewell given without words.



As we drove by the eating-house, the shade of a side window was raised,

and the landlady looked her last upon the Virginian. Her lips were

faintly parted, and no woman's eyes ever said more plainly, "I am one of

your possessions." She had forgotten that it might be seen. Her glance

caught mine, and she backed into the dimness of the room. What look

she may have received from him, if he gave her any at this too public

moment, I could not tell. His eyes seemed to be upon the horses, and

he drove with the same mastering ease that had roped the wild pony

yesterday. We passed the ramparts of Medicine Bow,--thick heaps and

fringes of tin cans, and shelving mounds of bottles cast out of the

saloons. The sun struck these at a hundred glittering points. And in a

moment we were in the clean plains, with the prairie-dogs and the pale

herds of antelope. The great, still air bathed us, pure as water and

strong as wine; the sunlight flooded the world; and shining upon the

breast of the Virginian's flannel shirt lay a long gold thread of hair!

The noisy American drummer had met defeat, but this silent free lance

had been easily victorious.



It must have been five miles that we travelled in silence, losing and

seeing the horizon among the ceaseless waves of the earth. Then I looked

back, and there was Medicine Bow, seemingly a stone's throw behind

us. It was a full half-hour before I looked back again, and there sure

enough was always Medicine Bow. A size or two smaller, I will admit, but

visible in every feature, like something seen through the wrong end of

a field glass. The East-bound express was approaching the town, and I

noticed the white steam from its whistle; but when the sound reached us,

the train had almost stopped. And in reply to my comment upon this, the

Virginian deigned to remark that it was more so in Arizona.



"A man come to Arizona," he said, "with one of them telescopes to study

the heavenly bodies. He was a Yankee, seh, and a right smart one, too.

And one night we was watchin' for some little old fallin' stars that he

said was due, and I saw some lights movin' along across the mesa pretty

lively, an' I sang out. But he told me it was just the train. And I told

him I didn't know yu' could see the cyars that plain from his place,

'Yu' can see them,' he said to me, 'but it is las' night's cyars you're

lookin' at.'" At this point the Virginian spoke severely to one of the

horses. "Of course," he then resumed to me, "that Yankee man did not

mean quite all he said.--You, Buck!" he again broke off suddenly to

the horse. "But Arizona, seh," he continued, "it cert'nly has a mos'

deceivin' atmospheah. Another man told me he had seen a lady close one

eye at him when he was two minutes hard run from her." This time the

Virginian gave Buck the whip.



"What effect," I inquired with a gravity equal to his own, "does this

extraordinary foreshortening have upon a quart of whiskey?"



"When it's outside yu', seh, no distance looks too far to go to it."



He glanced at me with an eye that held more confidence than hitherto he

had been able to feel in me. I had made one step in his approval. But

I had many yet to go. This day he preferred his own thoughts to my

conversation, and so he did all the days of this first journey; while

I should have greatly preferred his conversation to my thoughts. He

dismissed some attempts that I made upon the subject of Uncle Hughey so

that I had not the courage to touch upon Trampas, and that chill brief

collision which might have struck the spark of death. Trampas! I had

forgotten him till this silent drive I was beginning. I wondered if I

should ever see him, or Steve, or any of those people again. And this

wonder I expressed aloud.



"There's no tellin' in this country," said the Virginian. "Folks come

easy, and they go easy. In settled places, like back in the States, even

a poor man mostly has a home. Don't care if it's only a barrel on a lot,

the fello' will keep frequentin' that lot, and if yu' want him yu' can

find him. But out hyeh in the sage-brush, a man's home is apt to be his

saddle blanket. First thing yu' know, he has moved it to Texas."



"You have done some moving yourself," I suggested.



But this word closed his mouth. "I have had a look at the country," he

said, and we were silent again. Let me, however, tell you here that he

had set out for a "look at the country" at the age of fourteen; and

that by his present age of twenty-four he had seen Arkansas, Texas,

New Mexico, Arizona, California, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming.

Everywhere he had taken care of himself, and survived; nor had his

strong heart yet waked up to any hunger for a home. Let me also tell you

that he was one of thousands drifting and living thus, but (as you shall

learn) one in a thousand.



Medicine Bow did not forever remain in sight. When next I thought of it

and looked behind, nothing was there but the road we had come; it lay

like a ship's wake across the huge ground swell of the earth. We were

swallowed in a vast solitude. A little while before sunset, a cabin came

in view; and here we passed our first night. Two young men lived here,

tending their cattle. They were fond of animals. By the stable a chained

coyote rushed nervously in a circle, or sat on its haunches and snapped

at gifts of food ungraciously. A tame young elk walked in and out of

the cabin door, and during supper it tried to push me off my chair. A

half-tame mountain sheep practised jumping from the ground to the roof.

The cabin was papered with posters of a circus, and skins of bear and

silver fox lay upon the floor. Until nine o'clock one man talked to the

Virginian, and one played gayly upon a concertina; and then we all went

to bed. The air was like December, but in my blankets and a buffalo robe

I kept warm, and luxuriated in the Rocky Mountain silence. Going to wash

before breakfast at sunrise, I found needles of ice in a pail. Yet it

was hard to remember that this quiet, open, splendid wilderness (with

not a peak in sight just here) was six thousand feet high. And when

breakfast was over there was no December left; and by the time the

Virginian and I were ten miles upon our way, it was June. But always

every breath that I breathed was pure as water and strong as wine.



We never passed a human being this day. Some wild cattle rushed up to

us and away from us; antelope stared at us from a hundred yards; coyotes

ran skulking through the sage-brush to watch us from a hill; at our noon

meal we killed a rattlesnake and shot some young sage chickens, which

were good at supper, roasted at our camp-fire.



By half-past eight we were asleep beneath the stars, and by half-past

four I was drinking coffee and shivering. The horse, Buck, was hard to

catch this second morning. Whether some hills that we were now in

had excited him, or whether the better water up here had caused an

effervescence in his spirits, I cannot say. But I was as hot as July by

the time we had him safe in harness, or, rather, unsafe in harness. For

Buck, in the mysterious language of horses, now taught wickedness to

his side partner, and about eleven o'clock they laid their evil heads

together and decided to break our necks.



We were passing, I have said, through a range of demi-mountains. It was

a little country where trees grew, water ran, and the plains were shut

out for a while. The road had steep places in it, and places here and

there where you could fall off and go bounding to the bottom among

stones. But Buck, for some reason, did not think these opportunities

good enough for him. He selected a more theatrical moment. We emerged

from a narrow canyon suddenly upon five hundred cattle and some cow-boys

branding calves by a fire in a corral. It was a sight that Buck knew by

heart. He instantly treated it like an appalling phenomenon. I saw

him kick seven ways; I saw Muggins kick five ways; our furious motion

snapped my spine like a whip. I grasped the seat. Something gave a

forlorn jingle. It was the brake.



"Don't jump!" commanded the trustworthy man.



"No," I said, as my hat flew off.



Help was too far away to do anything for us. We passed scathless through

a part of the cattle, I saw their horns and backs go by. Some earth

crumbled, and we plunged downward into water rocking among stones, and

upward again through some more crumbling earth. I heard a crash, and saw

my trunk landing in the stream.



"She's safer there," said the trustworthy man.



"True," I said.



"We'll go back for her," said he, with his eye on the horses and his

foot on the crippled brake. A dry gully was coming, and no room to turn.

The farther side of it was terraced with rock. We should simply fall

backward, if we did not fall forward first. He steered the horses

straight over, and just at the bottom swung them, with astonishing

skill, to the right along the hard-baked mud. They took us along the bed

up to the head of the gully, and through a thicket of quaking asps. The

light trees bent beneath our charge and bastinadoed the wagon as it went

over them. But their branches enmeshed the horses' legs, and we came to

a harmless standstill among a bower of leaves.



I looked at the trustworthy man, and smiled vaguely. He considered me

for a moment.



"I reckon," said he, "you're feelin' about halfway between 'Oh, Lord!'

and 'Thank God!'"



"That's quite it," said I, as he got down on the ground.



"Nothing's broke," said he, after a searching examination. And he

indulged in a true Virginian expletive. "Gentlemen, hush!" he murmured

gently, looking at me with his grave eyes; "one time I got pretty near

scared. You, Buck," he continued, "some folks would beat you now till

yu'd be uncertain whether yu' was a hawss or a railroad accident. I'd do

it myself, only it wouldn't cure yu'."



I now told him that I supposed he had saved both our lives. But he

detested words of direct praise. He made some grumbling rejoinder, and

led the horses out of the thicket. Buck, he explained to me, was a good

horse, and so was Muggins. Both of them generally meant well, and that

was the Judge's reason for sending them to meet me. But these broncos

had their off days. Off days might not come very often; but when the

humor seized a bronco, he had to have his spree. Buck would now behave

himself as a horse should for probably two months. "They are just like

humans," the Virginian concluded.



Several cow-boys arrived on a gallop to find how many pieces of us were

left. We returned down the hill; and when we reached my trunk, it was

surprising to see the distance that our runaway had covered. My hat was

also found, and we continued on our way.



Buck and Muggins were patterns of discretion through the rest of the

mountains. I thought when we camped this night that it was strange Buck

should be again allowed to graze at large, instead of being tied to a

rope while we slept. But this was my ignorance. With the hard work that

he was gallantly doing, the horse needed more pasture than a rope's

length would permit him to find. Therefore he went free, and in the

morning gave us but little trouble in catching him.



We crossed a river in the forenoon, and far to the north of us we saw

the Bow Leg Mountains, pale in the bright sun. Sunk Creek flowed from

their western side, and our two hundred and sixty-three miles began to

grow a small thing in my eyes. Buck and Muggins, I think, knew perfectly

that to-morrow would see them home. They recognized this region; and

once they turned off at a fork in the road. The Virginian pulled them

back rather sharply.



"Want to go back to Balaam's?" he inquired of them. "I thought you had

more sense."



I asked, "Who was Balaam?"



"A maltreater of hawsses," replied the cowpuncher. "His ranch is on

Butte Creek oveh yondeh." And he pointed to where the diverging road

melted into space. "The Judge bought Buck and Muggins from him in the

spring."



"So he maltreats horses?" I repeated.



"That's the word all through this country. A man that will do what

they claim Balaam does to a hawss when he's mad, ain't fit to be called

human." The Virginian told me some particulars.



"Oh!" I almost screamed at the horror of it, and again, "Oh!"



"He'd have prob'ly done that to Buck as soon as he stopped runnin' away.

If I caught a man doin' that--"



We were interrupted by a sedate-looking traveller riding upon an equally

sober horse.



"Mawnin', Taylor," said the Virginian, pulling up for gossip. "Ain't you

strayed off your range pretty far?"



"You're a nice one!" replied Mr. Taylor, stopping his horse and smiling

amiably.



"Tell me something I don't know," retorted the Virginian.



"Hold up a man at cards and rob him," pursued Mr. Taylor. "Oh, the news

has got ahead of you!"



"Trampas has been hyeh explainin', has he?" said the Virginian with a

grin.



"Was that your victim's name?" said Mr. Taylor, facetiously. "No, it

wasn't him that brought the news. Say, what did you do, anyway?"



"So that thing has got around," murmured the Virginian. "Well, it wasn't

worth such wide repawtin'." And he gave the simple facts to Taylor,

while I sat wondering at the contagious powers of Rumor. Here, through

this voiceless land, this desert, this vacuum, it had spread like a

change of weather. "Any news up your way?" the Virginian concluded.



Importance came into Mr. Taylor's countenance. "Bear Creek is going to

build a schoolhouse," said he.



"Goodness gracious!" drawled the Virginian. "What's that for?"



Now Mr. Taylor had been married for some years. "To educate the

offspring of Bear Creek," he answered with pride.



"Offspring of Bear Creek," the Virginian meditatively repeated. "I don't

remember noticin' much offspring. There was some white tail deer, and a

right smart o' jack rabbits."



"The Swintons have moved up from Drybone," said Mr. Taylor, always

seriously. "They found it no place for young children. And there's Uncle

Carmody with six, and Ben Dow. And Westfall has become a family man,

and--"



"Jim Westfall!" exclaimed the Virginian. "Him a fam'ly man! Well, if

this hyeh Territory is goin' to get full o' fam'ly men and empty o'

game, I believe I'll--"



"Get married yourself," suggested Mr. Taylor.



"Me! I ain't near reached the marriageable age. No, seh! But Uncle

Hughey has got there at last, yu' know."



"Uncle Hughey!" shouted Mr. Taylor. He had not heard this. Rumor is very

capricious. Therefore the Virginian told him, and the family man rocked

in his saddle.



"Build your schoolhouse," said the Virginian. "Uncle Hughey has

qualified himself to subscribe to all such propositions. Got your eye on

a schoolmarm?"



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