O Pioneers! Read online

  I

  Winter has settled down over the Divide again; the season inwhich Nature recuperates, in which she sinks to sleep between thefruitfulness of autumn and the passion of spring. The birds havegone. The teeming life that goes on down in the long grass isexterminated. The prairie-dog keeps his hole. The rabbits runshivering from one frozen garden patch to another and are hard putto it to find frost-bitten cabbage-stalks. At night the coyotesroam the wintry waste, howling for food. The variegated fieldsare all one color now; the pastures, the stubble, the roads, thesky are the same leaden gray. The hedgerows and trees are scarcelyperceptible against the bare earth, whose slaty hue they have takenon. The ground is frozen so hard that it bruises the foot to walkin the roads or in the ploughed fields. It is like an iron country,and the spirit is oppressed by its rigor and melancholy. One couldeasily believe that in that dead landscape the germs of life andfruitfulness were extinct forever.

  Alexandra has settled back into her old routine. There are weeklyletters from Emil. Lou and Oscar she has not seen since Carlwent away. To avoid awkward encounters in the presence of curiousspectators, she has stopped going to the Norwegian Church and drivesup to the Reform Church at Hanover, or goes with Marie Shabata tothe Catholic Church, locally known as "the French Church." She hasnot told Marie about Carl, or her differences with her brothers.She was never very communicative about her own affairs, and whenshe came to the point, an instinct told her that about such thingsshe and Marie would not understand one another.

  Old Mrs. Lee had been afraid that family misunderstandings mightdeprive her of her yearly visit to Alexandra. But on the first dayof December Alexandra telephoned Annie that to-morrow she wouldsend Ivar over for her mother, and the next day the old lady arrivedwith her bundles. For twelve years Mrs. Lee had always enteredAlexandra's sitting-room with the same exclamation, "Now we be yust-alike old times!" She enjoyed the liberty Alexandra gave her, andhearing her own language about her all day long. Here she couldwear her nightcap and sleep with all her windows shut, listento Ivar reading the Bible, and here she could run about among thestables in a pair of Emil's old boots. Though she was bent almostdouble, she was as spry as a gopher. Her face was as brown as ifit had been varnished, and as full of wrinkles as a washerwoman'shands. She had three jolly old teeth left in the front of hermouth, and when she grinned she looked very knowing, as if whenyou found out how to take it, life wasn't half bad. While she andAlexandra patched and pieced and quilted, she talked incessantlyabout stories she read in a Swedish family paper, telling the plotsin great detail; or about her life on a dairy farm in Gottlandwhen she was a girl. Sometimes she forgot which were the printedstories and which were the real stories, it all seemed so far away.She loved to take a little brandy, with hot water and sugar, beforeshe went to bed, and Alexandra always had it ready for her. "Itsends good dreams," she would say with a twinkle in her eye.

  When Mrs. Lee had been with Alexandra for a week, Marie Shabatatelephoned one morning to say that Frank had gone to town for theday, and she would like them to come over for coffee in the afternoon.Mrs. Lee hurried to wash out and iron her new cross-stitched apron,which she had finished only the night before; a checked ginghamapron worked with a design ten inches broad across the bottom;a hunting scene, with fir trees and a stag and dogs and huntsmen.Mrs. Lee was firm with herself at dinner, and refused a secondhelping of apple dumplings. "I ta-ank I save up," she said witha giggle.

  At two o'clock in the afternoon Alexandra's cart drove up to theShabatas' gate, and Marie saw Mrs. Lee's red shawl come bobbing upthe path. She ran to the door and pulled the old woman into thehouse with a hug, helping her to take off her wraps while Alexandrablanketed the horse outside. Mrs. Lee had put on her best blacksatine dress--she abominated woolen stuffs, even in winter--anda crocheted collar, fastened with a big pale gold pin, containingfaded daguerreotypes of her father and mother. She had not wornher apron for fear of rumpling it, and now she shook it out andtied it round her waist with a conscious air. Marie drew back andthrew up her hands, exclaiming, "Oh, what a beauty! I've neverseen this one before, have I, Mrs. Lee?"

  The old woman giggled and ducked her head. "No, yust las' night Ima-ake. See dis tread; verra strong, no wa-ash out, no fade. Mysister send from Sveden. I yust-a ta-ank you like dis."

  Marie ran to the door again. "Come in, Alexandra. I have beenlooking at Mrs. Lee's apron. Do stop on your way home and show itto Mrs. Hiller. She's crazy about cross-stitch."

  While Alexandra removed her hat and veil, Mrs. Lee went out to thekitchen and settled herself in a wooden rocking-chair by the stove,looking with great interest at the table, set for three, with a whitecloth, and a pot of pink geraniums in the middle. "My, a-an't yougotta fine plants; such-a much flower. How you keep from freeze?"

  She pointed to the window-shelves, full of blooming fuchsias andgeraniums.

  "I keep the fire all night, Mrs. Lee, and when it's very cold I putthem all on the table, in the middle of the room. Other nights Ionly put newspapers behind them. Frank laughs at me for fussing,but when they don't bloom he says, 'What's the matter with thedarned things?'--What do you hear from Carl, Alexandra?"

  "He got to Dawson before the river froze, and now I suppose I won'thear any more until spring. Before he left California he sent mea box of orange flowers, but they didn't keep very well. I havebrought a bunch of Emil's letters for you." Alexandra came outfrom the sitting-room and pinched Marie's cheek playfully. "Youdon't look as if the weather ever froze you up. Never have colds,do you? That's a good girl. She had dark red cheeks like thiswhen she was a little girl, Mrs. Lee. She looked like some queerforeign kind of a doll. I've never forgot the first time I sawyou in Mieklejohn's store, Marie, the time father was lying sick.Carl and I were talking about that before he went away."

  "I remember, and Emil had his kitten along. When are you going tosend Emil's Christmas box?"

  "It ought to have gone before this. I'll have to send it by mailnow, to get it there in time."

  Marie pulled a dark purple silk necktie from her workbasket. "Iknit this for him. It's a good color, don't you think? Will youplease put it in with your things and tell him it's from me, towear when he goes serenading."

  Alexandra laughed. "I don't believe he goes serenading much. Hesays in one letter that the Mexican ladies are said to be verybeautiful, but that don't seem to me very warm praise."

  Marie tossed her head. "Emil can't fool me. If he's bought aguitar, he goes serenading. Who wouldn't, with all those Spanishgirls dropping flowers down from their windows! I'd sing to themevery night, wouldn't you, Mrs. Lee?"

  The old lady chuckled. Her eyes lit up as Marie bent down andopened the oven door. A delicious hot fragrance blew out into thetidy kitchen. "My, somet'ing smell good!" She turned to Alexandrawith a wink, her three yellow teeth making a brave show, "I ta-ankdat stop my yaw from ache no more!" she said contentedly.

  Marie took out a pan of delicate little rolls, stuffed with stewedapricots, and began to dust them over with powdered sugar. "I hopeyou'll like these, Mrs. Lee; Alexandra does. The Bohemians alwayslike them with their coffee. But if you don't, I have a coffee-cakewith nuts and poppy seeds. Alexandra, will you get the cream jug?I put it in the window to keep cool."

  "The Bohemians," said Alexandra, as they drew up to the table,"certainly know how to make more kinds of bread than any otherpeople in the world. Old Mrs. Hiller told me once at the churchsupper that she could make seven kinds of fancy bread, but Mariecould make a dozen."

  Mrs. Lee held up one of the apricot rolls between her brown thumband forefinger and weighed it critically. "Yust like-a fedders,"she pronounced with satisfaction. "My, a-an't dis nice!" sheexclaimed as she stirred her coffee. "I yust ta-ake a liddle yellynow, too, I ta-ank."

  Alexandra and Marie laughed at her forehandedness, and fell totalking of their own affairs. "I was afraid you had a cold whenI talked to you over the telephone the other night, Marie. Whatwas the matter, had you been crying?"

  "Maybe I h
ad," Marie smiled guiltily. "Frank was out late thatnight. Don't you get lonely sometimes in the winter, when everybodyhas gone away?"

  "I thought it was something like that. If I hadn't had company,I'd have run over to see for myself. If you get down-hearted, whatwill become of the rest of us?" Alexandra asked.

  "I don't, very often. There's Mrs. Lee without any coffee!"

  Later, when Mrs. Lee declared that her powers were spent, Marieand Alexandra went upstairs to look for some crochet patterns theold lady wanted to borrow. "Better put on your coat, Alexandra.It's cold up there, and I have no idea where those patterns are. Imay have to look through my old trunks." Marie caught up a shawland opened the stair door, running up the steps ahead of her guest."While I go through the bureau drawers, you might look in thosehat-boxes on the closet-shelf, over where Frank's clothes hang.There are a lot of odds and ends in them."

  She began tossing over the contents of the drawers, and Alexandrawent into the clothes-closet. Presently she came back, holding aslender elastic yellow stick in her hand.

  "What in the world is this, Marie? You don't mean to tell me Frankever carried such a thing?"

  Marie blinked at it with astonishment and sat down on the floor."Where did you find it? I didn't know he had kept it. I haven'tseen it for years."

  "It really is a cane, then?"

  "Yes. One he brought from the old country. He used to carry itwhen I first knew him. Isn't it foolish? Poor Frank!"

  Alexandra twirled the stick in her fingers and laughed. "He musthave looked funny!"

  Marie was thoughtful. "No, he didn't, really. It didn't seem outof place. He used to be awfully gay like that when he was a youngman. I guess people always get what's hardest for them, Alexandra."Marie gathered the shawl closer about her and still looked hard atthe cane. "Frank would be all right in the right place," she saidreflectively. "He ought to have a different kind of wife, for onething. Do you know, Alexandra, I could pick out exactly the rightsort of woman for Frank--now. The trouble is you almost haveto marry a man before you can find out the sort of wife he needs;and usually it's exactly the sort you are not. Then what are yougoing to do about it?" she asked candidly.

  Alexandra confessed she didn't know. "However," she added, "itseems to me that you get along with Frank about as well as anywoman I've ever seen or heard of could."

  Marie shook her head, pursing her lips and blowing her warm breathsoftly out into the frosty air. "No; I was spoiled at home. Ilike my own way, and I have a quick tongue. When Frank brags, Isay sharp things, and he never forgets. He goes over and over itin his mind; I can feel him. Then I'm too giddy. Frank's wifeought to be timid, and she ought not to care about another livingthing in the world but just Frank! I didn't, when I married him,but I suppose I was too young to stay like that." Marie sighed.

  Alexandra had never heard Marie speak so frankly about her husbandbefore, and she felt that it was wiser not to encourage her. Nogood, she reasoned, ever came from talking about such things, andwhile Marie was thinking aloud, Alexandra had been steadily searchingthe hat-boxes. "Aren't these the patterns, Maria?"

  Maria sprang up from the floor. "Sure enough, we were lookingfor patterns, weren't we? I'd forgot about everything but Frank'sother wife. I'll put that away."

  She poked the cane behind Frank's Sunday clothes, and though shelaughed, Alexandra saw there were tears in her eyes.

  When they went back to the kitchen, the snow had begun to fall,and Marie's visitors thought they must be getting home. She wentout to the cart with them, and tucked the robes about old Mrs.Lee while Alexandra took the blanket off her horse. As they droveaway, Marie turned and went slowly back to the house. She took upthe package of letters Alexandra had brought, but she did not readthem. She turned them over and looked at the foreign stamps, andthen sat watching the flying snow while the dusk deepened in thekitchen and the stove sent out a red glow.

  Marie knew perfectly well that Emil's letters were written more forher than for Alexandra. They were not the sort of letters that ayoung man writes to his sister. They were both more personal andmore painstaking; full of descriptions of the gay life in the oldMexican capital in the days when the strong hand of Porfirio Diazwas still strong. He told about bull-fights and cock-fights,churches and FIESTAS, the flower-markets and the fountains, themusic and dancing, the people of all nations he met in the Italianrestaurants on San Francisco Street. In short, they were the kindof letters a young man writes to a woman when he wishes himselfand his life to seem interesting to her, when he wishes to enlisther imagination in his behalf.

  Marie, when she was alone or when she sat sewing in the evening,often thought about what it must be like down there where Emil was;where there were flowers and street bands everywhere, and carriagesrattling up and down, and where there was a little blind boot-blackin front of the cathedral who could play any tune you asked forby dropping the lids of blacking-boxes on the stone steps. Wheneverything is done and over for one at twenty-three, it is pleasantto let the mind wander forth and follow a young adventurer who haslife before him. "And if it had not been for me," she thought,"Frank might still be free like that, and having a good time makingpeople admire him. Poor Frank, getting married wasn't very goodfor him either. I'm afraid I do set people against him, as he says.I seem, somehow, to give him away all the time. Perhaps he wouldtry to be agreeable to people again, if I were not around. Itseems as if I always make him just as bad as he can be."

  Later in the winter, Alexandra looked back upon that afternoon asthe last satisfactory visit she had had with Marie. After thatday the younger woman seemed to shrink more and more into herself.When she was with Alexandra she was not spontaneous and frankas she used to be. She seemed to be brooding over something, andholding something back. The weather had a good deal to do withtheir seeing less of each other than usual. There had not beensuch snowstorms in twenty years, and the path across the fields wasdrifted deep from Christmas until March. When the two neighborswent to see each other, they had to go round by the wagon-road,which was twice as far. They telephoned each other almost everynight, though in January there was a stretch of three weeks whenthe wires were down, and when the postman did not come at all.

  Marie often ran in to see her nearest neighbor, old Mrs. Hiller,who was crippled with rheumatism and had only her son, the lameshoemaker, to take care of her; and she went to the French Church,whatever the weather. She was a sincerely devout girl. She prayedfor herself and for Frank, and for Emil, among the temptations ofthat gay, corrupt old city. She found more comfort in the Churchthat winter than ever before. It seemed to come closer to her,and to fill an emptiness that ached in her heart. She tried tobe patient with her husband. He and his hired man usually playedCalifornia Jack in the evening. Marie sat sewing or crocheting andtried to take a friendly interest in the game, but she was alwaysthinking about the wide fields outside, where the snow was driftingover the fences; and about the orchard, where the snow was fallingand packing, crust over crust. When she went out into the darkkitchen to fix her plants for the night, she used to stand by thewindow and look out at the white fields, or watch the currents ofsnow whirling over the orchard. She seemed to feel the weight ofall the snow that lay down there. The branches had become so hardthat they wounded your hand if you but tried to break a twig. Andyet, down under the frozen crusts, at the roots of the trees, thesecret of life was still safe, warm as the blood in one's heart;and the spring would come again! Oh, it would come again!