From the Improvement Era, 1938 –

Beckoning Roads

By Dorothy Clapp Robinson

Chapter 1

A new novel of our generation, our people, our problems, our youth, with life beckoning forward and economic insecurity striving to hold it back …

“Give me your hand. There now, up with you.”

“Oh, boy. What a climb.”

“It is worth it. Look.”

Together they stood on a crag that rose sentinel-like above an avalanche of broken rock. The girl’s hand groped to find security in the palm of the man beside her. A buoyant breeze struck their faces and suddenly the brown chrysalis that had been winter, opened, and spring was there. spring, soft and new and warm-scented! From the canyon below, from the broken lava stretching into the blue distance, from the miles of dull-looking, aromatic sage, came an insistent challenging magic of awakening life. Under her old brown sweater Nancy’s heart leaped to a delirious new tempo. Emotions, dormant under the hard hand of winter, suddenly clamored for expression.

“Pete,” she whispered.

“Yes.” The hand that lay over hers tightened.

“It’s spring. Our spring.”

The man drew a deep breath.

“Our spring, Pete. I always wanted to be married in the spring.”

The man’s gaze had strayed to a far horizon. He brought it back to meet the blue eyes turned in eagerness to him. His own softened and the muscles about his mouth relaxed. With one finger he touched her cheek.

“There’s a freckle,” he said. “Too early for them.” Then as she still waited, “Love me enough to trust me?”

Her eyes darkened with sudden apprehension. “Pete, is something wrong again?”

“No. Nothing wrong, except —”

“Except you want to put it off again. How can you, Pete? It is spring and we had planned.”

With an arm over her shoulder he turned her to face the desert behind them. He pointed to a road that darted in and out of the sage.

“See that road? Once I was coming here for wood and with my mind on something else I took it. I went on and on getting nowhere, broke my reach, lamed my best horse, and then had to turn back. And I lost two days’ work besides.”

“Meaning what?”

“In life it isn’t so easy to turn back. A mistake is hard to pick up. Time lost is — lost.”

“Yes. I have heard men give that excuse for not putting off marriage.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, he went on. “I don’t need to tell you what this winter has been. Spuds have gone down to nothing. Oh, what’s the use of explaining. You do understand, Curley?”

“Yes, don’t I know? But are prices and — things so decisive?”

“I am afraid they are for a while.”

“Pete,” one hand stole softly to his cheek. “Isn’t it a girl’s privilege to share?”

He moved the hand to his lips; then held it tightly in both his while his eyes sought again the far horizon. She stirred restlessly.

“Yes, later,” he said at length. “But I would not let a bride of mine marry into debt. There will be enough to do without, even then.”

“If you cannot sell your potatoes what about your sheep? You have some.”

“A few. You will have to take my word for it.”

Nancy drew herself away. She turned and on the edge of the cliff faced the canyon. For the first time she was conscious of a biting breeze that cut through her clothes and sent a cold chill over her. She saw, too, traces of snow under the sage and on the north slope of the tumbled boulders. Her hopes were doing queer cartwheels, but her head was high.

“Very well, if that is the way you feel about it. I hope it isn’t just an excuse.”

“Nancy Porter.” The tone of the spoken words was her answer but she was young and heartsick with disappointment.

“Oh, I know. But you postponed it before. I don’t believe in marrying on hopes entirely but you have a start, Pete.”

The man started to tell her something but changed his mind and asked, “Do you want to live, always, like you are now?”

“No. I refuse to do it.”

“So do I, my dear. That is why I am waiting. I couldn’t cheat you of the right beginning. A bride has a right to new things —”

“A right beginning doesn’t always count. Look at Dad and Mother.”

“Yes,” he conceded slowly. “It often happens that way. It depends on the man more than on conditions. Given a little time I can make it. When this slump is broken —”

She laughed harshly. “When the slump is broken, if it ever is, and prices go up, if they ever do.”

“Besides,” he went on unruffled. “I never saw a case yet where expenses didn’t increase after marriage. There are —”

“Never mind saying it.” She turned to look at him and her heart softened. Could she ever doubt him, this hard-muscled man, who had such threatening black eyebrows and inconsistently tender mouth. He must know what he was doing, still —

“Couldn’t you get work?” she asked hopefully.

“Possibly, though I doubt it. I am having my brother Jon with me this summer. He hasn’t been able to get anything.”

“But you are older and trained.”

“I might if I tried but I’m not trying. I am a farmer and intend to stay one.”

Her quick temper flared. “If you starve in the attempt?”

“Watch out.” He reached and drew her back from the edge of the cliff. “We haven’t money for funerals right now, either. Moreover” — there came into his eyes a twinkle she well knew — “if you should marry into this debt and make yourself old and haggard at the start, I might soon be prowling around for a handsomer gal.”

“That’s probably the reason now.”

“Take that back.”

“I will not.”

“Take it back or I shall —”

“You shall what?”

With a little laugh he took hold of her with both hands and drew her near. The girl yielded to his embrace. His face bent to hers, then suddenly he straightened. His arms dropped to his sides.

“Let’s go back.”

The girl made no move. “You are a lovable mule, Pete Holverson, and a darn stubborn one. But just laugh this off if you can.”

“I’ll try.”

“I am going to work. Somewhere, anywhere. I know if one wants work as — as terribly as I do — they can find something. Then in the fall I am going back to school. And if I do, I shan’t stop until I am through.”

“Is that all? Don’t go without saying goodbye.”

Exasperated by his seeming lack of concern, Nancy whirled to climb from the rock on which they were standing. He caught her roughly by the arm.

“If you break your neck you will not get to school nor to work. Wait.”

If the girl had been less absorbed in her own problem she might have noticed the tension in his voice or the grim set of his mouth. He crawled down to a narrow shelf that clung to one side of the cliff. Reaching up he took her in his two arms and lifted her beside him.

“Give me your hand. We can make it from here if we are careful.”

Down the broken canyon wall Pete picked their way. Why was it so much harder than going up? Then she had scarcely noticed the danger in these jagged rocks. Now every step was a peril. Many footholds beckoned, but the man chose carefully. When she might have slipped and fallen, his strength held her steady.

At last, flushed, glowing with exertion, they reached the box-like canyon. Walking apart now, they turned upstream. About some springs that trickled from the canyon wall, a group of young people watched their approach. Down here, sheltered from the wind, it was spring again. The air was demanding. Nancy’s discontent became insistent.

“Pete,” she said suddenly, “Instead of putting off our marriage we will call it off.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. There is neither rhyme nor reason in being bound to a dream.”

There was not time to say more. They were nearing the group and a small black-eyed girl called,

“My word, you are slow. I am dying to tell you something but Lynn insists I wait until you get here.”

They approached a sandy bar near where the spring water resolved itself into a small stream. On the bar a young man sat running sand through his fingers. Beyond him another boy and girl were packing the remains of their lunch into saddle bags. Nearby six horses grazed on the dried grass of the chasm floor.

“Here they are. Now, Big Boy, speak your piece.” Then without waiting she went on, “We have the snickiest plan. We are all going down with you. When we saw you standing up there about nothing and two-fifths from eternity, we decided we wanted to climb to heights together. Lynn’s car isn’t much but it will hold six in a pinch. Or we might go in your old truck, Pete. Four of us could sit in the back and hold an umbrella over —”

“What are you trying to say, Vera?”

“Your climb didn’t make you dumb or something did it? As I was plainly and painfully telling —”

“Hold it, Chatterbox. Let a man tell it,” Mark, the one with the saddle bags, began, but Vera cut him short.

“So we are all going. It will be cheaper that way; and that should be an incentive to this crowd.”

“Going where?”

“Going where? After all my explaining.”

“What is she trying to say?” Nancy appealed to the boy on the sand. Lynn rose. He brushed the sand from his clothes and when he spoke, the hushed quality of his voice made the girl’s nonsense more apparent.

“We decided to get married when you do.”

“Oh!” Nancy’s hand went to her throat. Phyllis, who was serious as the other was gay, spoke for the first time.

“You know we have been waiting and waiting for conditions to get better, for something to turn up, but there is nothing more in sight than there was a year ago. We decided we would get married and take what comes. We shall go with you to June Conference.”

“But afterwards?”

A sudden hush fell over the group. Vera tossed her head.

“Darn afterward,” was her terse comment.

“We can live with the folks until fall,” Lynn spoke again. “When the crops are in we can —”

“If there are any,” Nancy reminded him.

“There will have to be. We can get a little place somewhere.”

“Why not get the little place now?” Pete asked.

“You would bring that up, Pete Holverson, just when we have steeled ourselves.”

“That is what we were going to do last fall. We can’t get places on promises entirely,” Lynn’s bitterness of spirit ran riot through his words. “Even rent must be paid and I won’t have much until after harvest.”

“And in me,” Mark struck a pose, “you see the she-man that is going to be KEPT.”

They laughed uncertainly and Phyllis put her hand on his arm.

“It will not be for long. You will get work.”

He laughed down into her serious face. “I sure will if my ability is as strong as your faith.”

If he would only keep work when he got it, Nancy thought. Her heart warmed to them all. They were trying to be casual about this thing that was a real problem. She turned to Pete. They were all waiting for his sanction. Surely he would stay by his original plans when he was so much more able to go than they.

“How’s the plan, Hans Peter?” Mark asked when the silence was becoming uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” he turned his steady gaze from one to the other. “We are not going until fall.” The words struck like an overcharged shell.

“The dickens you say.”

“What’s happened?”

“Well, of all the mind-changing men.”

Phyllis had sensed something amiss. She spoke quietly: “You certainly know best. It does seem foolhardy but we have waited so long. Surely there is a solution for us somewhere if we can only find it.”

“Maybe you are not foolhardy,” Pete’s eyes were bright. “Perhaps I am not courageous enough. Marriage is a mighty permanent proposition and I want to go into it seeing a clear road ahead, for a while at least. You fellows are not in debt; I am. I have thought — and walked the floor. My judgment tells me to wait.”

For a moment no one spoke. Each looked at his or her companion. Pete was older. They thought a great deal of his judgment. Then Vera’s hysterical laughter jarred them.

“That is all right in theory but what about the something somebody said about long engagements and the natural age for marrying? Must we wait indefinitely? Or would you have us do like some stories we read? And how do you know Nance will want you when fall comes? Girls and men have been known to change.”

Pete turned his eyes to the girl he loved. They softened with a great tenderness. “I am gambling on her love being as constant as mine.”

“If you are going to have something in the fall,” Mark countered, “getting married now isn’t going to turn the world over. It’s a toss-up either way.”

“I think you are entirely right, Pete, I think—”

“Oh, no, you don’t Lynn Conway. It is June conference or nothing.”

Lynn turned to face the black eyes that were snapping at him. A moment he hesitated, then, “Okay. You are the doctor.”

“I think it is time to go home,” Phyllis said crisply. “Hadn’t you better saddle the horses?”

They snatched at her suggestion. When they were gone she put an arm over Nancy’s shoulder. “We’re sorry.”

Nancy laughed shortly. “You need not be. I am through.”

“Serves the old Sourpuss right,” Vera declared emphatically. “He would find a way if he wanted.”

In their saddles they turned their horses single file up the narrow trail that led out of the canyon. Vera was the first to reach the level above. She looked back at them.

“And so ends the Perfect Day. This trail leads us to things — and others. It was a happy Easter if Pete did try his best to spoil it.”

(To be continued)