Beckoning Roads

By Dorothy Clapp Robinson

(Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

THE STORY THUS FAR: Nancy Porter and Peter Holverson, two marriageable and very-much-in-love young people of a rural Mormon community, found themselves anticipating “their spring” — the spring in which they, with others of their friends, had decided to go to the Temple to be married at June Conference time. But seemingly poor agricultural prospects and accumulated debt caused Peter, a high-principled and cautious young man, to postpone the marriage until “better times.” Questioning his motives and his wisdom, and in the anger of her disappointment, Nancy impulsively served notice on her betrothed that the “postponement” would be permanent and the “engagement was off.” The embarrassment was intensified by the fact that two couples of “their crowd,” Mark and Phyllis, and Lynn and Vera, who were apparently less economically prepared for marriage, decided to go through with their plans notwithstanding. And so these two parted, with hopes postponed — or abandoned.

Living in a discouraged home with a chronically and seriously ill father, discouraged younger brothers, and a work-worn mother, who held tenaciously to principles and ideals, Nancy became rebellious and determined to better her situation. Through a chain of favorable circumstances, she finally secured a temporary job as commissary-keeper of a huge ranching operation in a nearby section of the country. Reid Wood, young, impatient, city-bred son of the ranch owner-operator, called to take her to her new assignment. The trip was made; the job was reached. There was something about Reid Wood that she wanted to remember. There was something about Peter Holverson that she couldn’t forget: There was some resentment between Reid Wood and his father that she couldn’t understand. And so she found herself among cross-currents with a job on her hands and heavy thoughts in her mind. With the passing days she found herself liking her job and her surroundings, and found herself drawing near to the kindly inner nature of her employer, father Ben Wood — and found her thoughts often drifting to his restless son, Reid, with whom she rode and talked, learning something of the cause of his restless discontent. A serious accident to Mr. Ben Wood put his son Reid in charge of the ranching operation, under which responsibility he showed some signs of commendable leadership and some signs of possessive arrogance. Nancy soon learned that her former sweetheart, Peter Holverson, was under serious financial obligation to the Woods — and that young Wood intended to force payment. The intrusion of a presumptuous nurse. Miss Meade, employed to care for Mr. Wood, further complicated an already difficult situation.

THE next week was one of the hardest Nancy ever spent, and the loneliest. On his return from Blaine the day after Peter’s visit to the ranch Reid had pointedly ignored her. It was evident he sensed what the letter to the bank had meant. Was it anything to do with her if Mr. Wood had made it possible for Pete to borrow the money to pay his son? Was she at fault if his victory were not a victory after all? Apparently he thought so. He pointedly courted Miss Meade’s attention and Nancy was once again just the book-keeper. Not that she minded that, she told herself; but she had nearly given up her position because of that letter and Pete was as indifferent as a stranger would have been. He had not come back as he had promised nor had he sent any word. Her knowledge of the outcome of the affair was mostly guesswork gleaned from Reid’s attitude and some loud words she had heard him shout at his father. Then one day Mr. Wood had spoken to her.

“Say, young lady, did you mail that letter I wrote?*’

“Reid mailed it. He went to town that morning.”

“Huh. Seems I can’t even write to my bank without my own son getting suspicious. Guess I know my own business.” He looked sternly at her as if defying her thought.

One Sunday Nancy was sitting on the lawn reading. Miss Meade and Reid Wood had gone away horseback. Mrs. Chris was in Blaine with her husband, and Mr. Wood was supposed to be sleeping. There was a humming undertone of summer in the air about her. From the fields came the faintly rhythmic clicking of mowing machines. Even on Sunday the work went on here. She let her book drop. Why must she be alone? This kind of weather was meant to be shared, not endured.

She thought of the radio but that might disturb the sleeping man. She would have liked to go in the field and drive one of the mowing machines. That, too, was taboo. Life had become more complicated these last two weeks. As if in answer to her wish there came to her ears a short, impudent blast from an automobile horn. She looked up expectantly.

“It’s the crowd!” She dropped her book and sprang to her feet. By the time Lynn had stopped the car she was there to open the door for them. They greeted her with an affection born of years of intimacy.

“You darling.” Vera held her at arm’s length. “You’re positively beautiful. Getting away has done something to you. If Hans Peter Holverson could only see you now.”

“Why didn’t you bring him?”

“We intended to but he was not at Sunday School and we came directly from there.”

“Then you have not eaten?”

“Yes. We have,” Phyllis told her. “We stopped at our place and ate.”

Vera had dropped to the lawn. “This is heavenly,” she said and the others sat beside her. “We thought,” she continued to Nancy, “that Pete had already come over here.”

“We’re missing you,” Phyllis was studying her closely. “You didn’t mean what you said Easter Sunday, did you? About you and Pete, I mean?”

“Certainly she meant it,” Vera answered.

“Tell me about your trip.” Nancy turned the talk from herself. “This is the first time I have seen you since you were married.”

VERA launched into a lively description of the sights they had seen, the fun they had had, with a vivid account of a flat tire and the length of time it had taken the boys to fix it. All in all it had been a very satisfactory trip. “The only fly in the ointment,” she ended, “was having to merely look at all the perfectly gorgeous dresses. I tried on at least a thousand.”

“You could get just as nice ones in Blaine,” Phyllis reminded her.

“But that is different.”

“How is it they have water enough over here?” Lynn asked suddenly. “I like the looks of these fields and this valley. It has been two or three years since I was over here.”

“They haven’t. The men say they will be a hundred tons of hay short. Mr. Wood has a reservoir of his own in the hills back of here.”

“I’ve got to get out somewhere,” Lynn went on. “There isn’t land enough on our place for Dad and all us boys. I’d like —”

“Have you really decided that?” his wife turned her head and looked pointedly at him.

“Yep.” Lynn rose and spoke to Mark. “Let’s look around.”

“Okay.” Mark rose lazily.

Vera watched their retreating figures. “It is a good thing he has come to his senses.”

“Vera.”

To their dismay brittle Vera burst into tears. Nancy put her arms about the shaking shoulders. “Don’t cry.”

The girl shook herself and sat up determinedly. “What a laugh. The flutterly little Vic being sick of married life.”

“Vera.” Constant Phyllis was shocked.

“Oh, don’t be so righteous, Phil. I’m sick of living in someone else’s house. What do we get married for if it isn’t to have a home of our own?”

“But you were anxious —”

“Don’t rub it in.” Her voice turned wavery. “I’ve worked on that woman-killing farm until I never want to hear of work again.”

“And I worry about the absence of work.”

“What do you mean?” Nancy demanded. “You haven’t lost your —”

“No. But Mark hasn’t any work.”

They fell silent. Marrying had solved some problems and created others. Perhaps life, after all, was a succession of problems to be solved.

“How are things over home?”

“Like they always are. Out your way it is terrible. We’re leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. It’s the parting of the ways for us and the farm. Why people can be stupid enough to stay on one is beyond me. Lynn doesn’t know it yet but we are leaving.”

“But — ” Nancy began.

“I know all the reasons, darling. I hear them every hour of the day. But if there is anything more uncertain about a pay check than there is about the weather you tell me.”

“I think —”

“I know that one, too. On a farm you always have something to eat — providing the woman hoes the garden two or three hours a day. Well, I never was keen about eating. I’d sooner have a bath tub. I’d as soon worry about little bills as big ones. Of course, a place like this one would be different. You’re crazy, Nancy, if you ever leave it.”

“What do you mean?” “Isn’t there an unattached male around here?”

“Vera, please.”

“My, my, how modest we are these days. You fish. Any man will be lucky to get you.”

“But there is Pete,” Phyllis cried.

“Honestly, Phyl, you are too loyal to be true. If Nancy must choose between two evils why not take the comfortable one.”

“If you are so keen about money,” Nancy asked her, “why did you marry Lynn?”

The black eyes scowled. “Don’t get personal. I am telling you what to do.” They all laughed and after that they felt better.

NANCY had brought them sandwiches and a cold drink and they were preparing to leave when next Nancy remembered Phyl’s remark about work.

“Mark,” she said. “They want another steady man here. I heard the cook telling about it this morning.”

“That would be a break,” Lynn turned to him. “Why don’t you try?”

“I will. I’ll come over the first thing in the morning.”

Phyllis put her hand on his arm. “Shouldn’t you see about it now?”

“But they told us out yonder the boss was gone.”

“We’ll wait.” Lynn wasn’t going to let Mark miss his chance for work. “Let’s ride up to the head of the valley. Come on.”

Nancy hesitated. “I will if Mr. Wood is asleep.” She went to his door and looked in. Coming back she told them, “Get in the car. I’ll be with you in a moment.” She went back to the kitchen by the commissary. “Now,” she said when she was in the car with them, “I can go in peace. Jim says he will listen for Mr. Wood. But the nurse should be back before long.” She sat in the back with Mark and Phyllis.

As they neared the head of the valley the vegetation seemed greener and more inviting, though everywhere, as on Big Smokey, there were evidences of the lack of rain. Lynn drove slowly. He was watching the fields on both sides of the road.

“Don’t I wish I could have had the chance these men had when they came to this valley.”

“What do you mean chance?” his wife demanded. “It looks like a dumb place to me.”

“I mean the chance to take up a homestead with free range on all sides. No wonder Mr. Wood made a fortune.”

“Some of them haven’t done so well,” Mark said, as they passed a long, low log cabin that was surely a derelict of the past.

“No fair bothering the driver.”

The shadows were lengthening and the air was keenly cool with the fragrance of evening when Lynn turned his car back toward the ranch. Again he drove slowly and as they neared the Wood fences he sighed again.

“What a place! What a place! Why wasn’t I born fifty years ago?”

At the ranch he stopped the car in front without leaving the county road. They could see Reid dawdling on the front porch. Miss Meade was there, too, Lynn, Mark, and Nancy got out and went toward the house, Reid stepped off the porch to meet them. He was acquainted with the men. Lynn spoke to him about the work.

“I could use another man. Stick around a few minutes.” He turned to Nancy. There was a glint about his eyes that was an instant challenge.

“Too bad you were gone so long,” he said to her. “A friend of yours called.”

“Which friend?” Nancy asked sharply, suspicion leaping to her mind.

“Your friend. The boy friend. He left just a few minutes before you came.”

“You mean Pete was here?”

“I think that is his name. You see Jim told me you had gone home with your friends.”

Nancy’s face went suddenly scarlet, not that she had been so eager to see Pete — but the nerve of it.

She turned abruptly and went back to the car. Vera grabbed her joyfully.

“He’s jealous, Nance. Snatch your chance. Snatch your chance.”

“He’s insolent and rude.”

“— and any girl’s dream of bliss.”

“You make me weary, Vic.”

“That is okay by me as long as you make good your golden opportunity.”

When the men came back Lynn seemed much the happier of the two.

“All set. Start work tomorrow.”

Phyllis beamed her happiness. “Now we can finish our little house.”

“I’ll have to go back with you to get my clothes.”

“I’ll send them over with the mail tomorrow.”

And so the threes drove away leaving behind a disconsolate man and an angry girl. They sat on the lawn talking jerkily until it was frankly dark; then Mark went to the bunkhouse and Nancy to her room.

She was still angry when she went into Mr. Wood’s room the next morning. She needed some information and to show her defiance went to the father instead of the son for it. As she was leaving the room he stopped her.

“How is the new boss coming?”

“Very well, I think. Things move with dispatch.”

He grinned with frank enjoyment. “Riled you last night, didn’t he?”

“You heard?”

“Everything. I might’a told your friend the truth but I don’t believe in interfering. The window was open and no one bothered to keep their voices down.”

“Then you heard Vera — earlier?”

“Couldn’t help it.”

“Vera talks too much.”

“She’s got sense, though.” He chuckled quietly. “This youngen will feel better now. You like him a little bit, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, but —”

Was she seeing things or did the faded old eyes leap with sudden light? “He wouldn’t be bad to team up with, would he?”

“He’s very — eligible,” she answered stiffly.

He looked at her sharply. Then suddenly demanded. “Why don’t you go home for a visit. Guess we don’t need to work our help all the time. I hear your father is poorly.”

“I should love it.”

“Hop to it. Take the small car and go by yourself.”

“When?”

“Right now. When they start stacking they might need you.”

“You blessed sinner.” Nancy gave him a swift impulsive kiss and ran to change.

Nancy turned the car recklessly and drove out across the sagebrush flat. It was too dry, this flat, for farming and it lay much as nature had formed it; the only traces of man were the numerous trails that cut through it — like this one that had brought her to her work and was now taking her back. Another wound away and away across the desert until it merged into others and civilization. One went up Antelope Creek where there were only rocks and scrub trees. Some merely lead on and on getting nowhere in particular. Life depended a great deal on the road one took. Good thing she was certain of hers.

She had forgotten how barren life was of comforts at home. She went to sleep that night with a deep depression clinging to her spirits and it would not be shaken. The house was a little hotter, poverty a little sharper, hopes a little less definite than she had remembered. A great deal of the time she sat by her father.

“Aren’t you getting better?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” he answered simply. “I am not getting better.”

He took an avid interest in her conversation but when she tried to sit by him and tell him about her experiences words failed her. Happenings seemed so trivial compared with the far-seeing, baffling look in his eyes. With him her thoughts stood still. Words stumbled over her awkward tongue.

Then all too quickly the visit was over and she was coming back across the flat. The sky was alight with stars. The moon, a silver scimitar, hung low above the eastern hills. And now as she noticed roads between the brush she knew somewhere another road was beckoning, beckoning insistently! The thought of it was new and terrifying. Would her father put his feet to it?

She put the car away and as she came up the steps Reid rose out of the dark to open the screen for her.

“You finally returned?” he barked.

At the sharp words Nancy stepped upon the porch. The clear night light struck Reid Wood’s face. It was pulled into lines of ill humor.

“So you are back,” he said again.

“Did I stay too long?”

“Yes,” curtly. “There was no reason for your going.”

“But your father —”

“I’m running this spread just now. This happens to be a busy time.”

“Oh.” This had not been a busy time. Tomorrow or next day when the stacking had been started — but not now. In spite of leaving home she had been so eager to get back. It was good to know the feeling of security this work had brought her. It was satisfying to be earning. Here she might forget for a while the fear the insistent new road had brought. Instead she had come back to a sulky employer. Flaming anger swept over her and she turned sharply to go inside.

The young man reached a hand to stay her; and then suddenly she was in his arms and his face was very close to hers.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispered huskily, “ever leave me again.”

“But I shall.” Her voice was cold with fury. She slipped from his arms and paused in the darkness of the doorway. “I think I shall leave whenever I feel like it.”

He stepped toward her but she fled to her own room. Tremblingly she laid aside her things and made ready for bed. Home problems were forgotten now. She could feel acutely the possessiveness of his arms. With what insouciance he could swing from one girl to another. But she found her anger ebbing. Vera had been right. She lay staring into the patch of light that came through her unblinded window. A lovely, lovely road was opening, inviting and intriguing — a road that would lead to the Land of Her Heart’s Desire. She was glad she had bought a new dress in Blaine today.

(To be continued)