Angel of the Gila

Cora Marsland

Description

How much can a single individual do to change the essential nature of a town? The young heroine of Cora Marsland's The Angel of the Gila does everything she can to bring health, happiness, and strong values to a recently settled community in rural Arizona. She spends her days tirelessly engaged in service, teaching children and adults, nursing the sick back to health, imparting spiritual wisdom -- and falling in love. Will she find a way to balance her work in the community with her own contentment?

Sujets

• Westerns
• Western (genre)
• Western

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 juillet 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775561958
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE ANGEL OF THE GILA
A TALE OF ARIZONA
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CORA MARSLAND
 
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The Angel of the Gila A Tale of Arizona First published in 1911 ISBN 978-1-77556-195-8 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Chapter I - The Mining Camp Chapter II - The Dawn of a New Day Chapter III - Clayton Ranch Chapter IV - The Angel of the Gila Chapter V - The Rocky Mountain Ball Chapter VI - A Soul's Awakening Chapter VII - The Gila Club Chapter VIII - The Cow Lasses Chapter IX - The Visit at Murphy Ranch Chapter X - Carla Earle Chapter XI - An Eventful Day Chapter XII - Christmas Day Chapter XIII - The Adoption of a Mother Chapter XIV - The Great Transformation Chapter XV - Some Social Experiences Chapter XVI - Over the Mountains Chapter XVII - The Day of the Great Race Chapter XVIII - Night on the Range Chapter XIX - Inasmuch Chapter XX - A Woman's No Chapter XXI - The Valley of the Shadow Chapter XXII - The Greatest of These is Love Chapter XXIII - At Sunset Chapter XXIV - Aftermath Endnotes
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TO MY MOTHER
Chapter I - The Mining Camp
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It was an October day in Gila, [1] Arizona. The one street of themining camp wound around the foothills, and led eastward to LineCanyon, which, at that point, divides Arizona from New Mexico. Foursaloons, an opium den, a store of general merchandise,—owned andoperated by the mining company,—a repair shop, one large, pretentiousadobe house,—the headquarters of the company, where superintendent,assayers, and mining engineers boarded,—several small dwellinghouses, and many miners' shacks, constituted the town.
A little further to the eastward, around a bend in the foothills, andnear Line Canyon, lay Clayton Ranch,—the most historic, as well asthe most picturesque spot in that region. Near the dwelling house, butcloser to the river than the Clayton home, stood a little adobeschoolhouse.
The town, facing south, overlooked Gila River and its wooded banks.Beyond the Gila, as in every direction, stretched foothills andmountains. Toward the south towered Mt. Graham, the highest peak ofthe Pinaleno range, blue in the distance, and crowned with snow.
Up a pathway of the foothills, west of the town, bounding forward asif such a climb were but joy to her, came a slight, girlish figure.She paused now and then to turn her face westward, watching thechanging colors of sunset.
At last she reached a bowlder, and, seating herself, leaned againstit, removed her sombrero hat, pushed back the moist curls from herforehead, and turned again to the sunset. The sun, for one suprememoment, poised on a mountain peak, then slowly sank, flashing itsmessage of splendor into the majestic dome of the sky, oversnow-capped mountains, over gigantic cliffs of red sandstone, overstretches of yellow foothills, and then caught the white-robed figure,leaning against the bowlder, in its rosy glow. The girl lifted herfine, sensitive face. Again she pushed the curls from her forehead. Asshe lifted her arm, her sleeve slipped back, revealing an arm and handof exquisite form, and patrician to the tips of the fingers.
She seemed absorbed in the scene before her, unconscious that she wasthe loveliest part of it. But if she was unconscious of the fact, ahorseman who drew rein a short distance away, and who watched herintently a few moments, was not. At last the girl stirred, as thoughto continue on her way. Instantly the horseman gave his horse a sharpcut with his whip, and went cantering up the ascent before her.
The sudden sound of a horse's hoofs startled her, and she glanced upto see the horseman and his thoroughbred speeding toward the town.
She swung her sombrero hat over her shoulder, and gathered up herflowers; then, with a lingering glance to westward, turned and walkedrapidly toward Gila.
By the time she had reached the one long street, many cowboys andminers had already congregated about the saloons. She dreaded to passthere at this hour, but this she must do in order to reach ClaytonRanch, nearly a mile beyond.
As she drew near one saloon, she heard uproarious laughter. The voiceswere loud and boisterous. It was impossible for her to escape hearingwhat was said. It was evident to her that she herself was at thatmoment the topic of conversation.
"She'll git all the Bible school she wants Sunday afternoon, or myname's not Pete Tompkins," ejaculated a bar-tender as he stepped tothe bar of a saloon.
"What're ye goin' ter do, Pete?" asked a young miner. "I'm in f'r y'rgame, or my name ain't Bill Hines."
"I?" answered the individual designated as Pete Tompkins, "I mean tergive 'er a reception, Bill, a reception ." Here he laughedboisterously. "I repeat it," he said. "I'll give 'er a reception, an'conterive ter let 'er understan' that no sech infernal business as aBible school 'll be tol'ated in these yere parts o' Arizony. Them aswants ter join me in smashin' this cussed Sunday business step ter thebar. I'll treat the hull blanked lot o' ye."
The girl passing along the street shuddered. The brutal voice went on:
"Set up the glasses o' whiskey, Keith. Here, Jess an' Kate. We wantyer ter have a hand in smashin' this devilish Bible school. Anotherglass fur Jess, Keith, an' one fur Kate."
The pedestrian quickened her pace, but still the voice followed her.
"Here's ter y'r healths, an' ter the smashin' o' the Bible school, an'ter the reception we'll give the new schoolma'am."
The stranger heard the clink of glasses, mingled with the uproar oflaughter. Then she caught the words:
"Ye don't jine us, Hastings. P'r'aps y're too 'ristercratic, orp'r'aps y're gone on the gal! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
The saloon rang with the laughter of the men and women.
The girl who had just passed quickened her pace, her cheeks tinglingwith indignation. As she hastened on, the man addressed as Hastingsreplied haughtily:
"I am a man , and being a man I cannot see insult offered to anywoman, especially when that woman is making an effort to do some goodin this Godless region."
"He's gone on 'er, sure, Bill. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Imagine me, Pete Tompkins,gone on the schoolma'am! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"
His companions joined in his laughter.
"What'ud she think o' my figger, Bill?" he asked, as he struttedacross the saloon. "How 'ud I look by 'er side in Virginny reel, eh?I'm afeared it 'ud be the devil an' angel in comp'ny. Ha-ha-ha!"
"Y're right thar," replied one of the men. "Ye certain are a devil,an' she do look like a angel."
"Say, fellers," said Bill Hines, "me an' Pete an' all o' ye ought tergit some slime from the river, an' throw on them white dresses o'hern. I don't like nobody settin' theirselves up to be better'n we be,even in clo'es, do ye, Jess?"
Jess agreed with him.
"What's all this noise about?" interrupted a new comer.
"Hello, Mark Clifton, is that you? Well, me an' Bill an' Jess an' theother kids is plannin' ter smash schoolma'am's Bible school, Sunday.We're goin' ter give 'er a reception."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Clifton.
"Ye kin jine the party an' we'll show yer."
"Let me urge you to leave Miss Bright alone. She has not harmed you.Leave the Bible school alone, too, and attend to your own business."
"Oh, he's a saint, ain't he! He is!" sneered Pete Tompkins. "What aboutthis gal as he has with him here? More whiskey! Fill up the glasses,Keith. Come, Jess. Come, Kate Harraday." And the half-intoxicated manswung one woman around and tried to dance a jig, failing in which, hefell to the floor puffing and swearing.
Mark Clifton's face darkened. He grasped a chair and stepped forward,as if to strike the speaker. He hesitated. As he did so, a handsomecowboy entered, followed by a little Indian boy of perhaps six yearsof age.
"What's the row, Hastings?" asked the cowboy in a low voice.
"Pete Tompkins and Bill Hines and their ilk are planning to give MissBright, the new teacher, some trouble when she attempts to start aBible school to-morrow afternoon. Clifton remonstrated, and theytaunted him about Carla Earle. That enraged him."
"What do they plan ter do?"
"I fancy they'll do every blackguard thing they can think of. They aredrunk now, but when they are sober they may reconsider. At any rate,the decent men of the camp ought to be on the spot to protect thatgirl, Harding."
"I'll be there fur one, Hastings. Have yer seen 'er?"
"Yes. As I rode into camp just now I passed someone I took to be MissBright."
"Pretty as a picter, ain't she?" said Jack Harding.
"Look, there she goes around the bend of the road towards Claytons'.There goes y'r teacher, Wathemah."
The Indian child bounded to the door.
"Me teacher, me teacher," he said over and over to himself, as hewatched the receding figure.
" Your teacher, eh, sonny," said Kenneth Hastings smiling. He laidhis hand on the child's head.
"Yes, me teacher," said the boy proudly.
His remark was overheard by Pete Tompkins.
"Lookee here, boys! There goes Wathemah's teacher. Now's y'r chance,my hearties. See the nat'ral cur'osity as is to start a religion shop,an' grind us fellers inter angels. Are my wings sproutin'?"
As he spoke the words, he flapped his elbows up and down. KennethHastings and Jack Harding exchanged glances. Mark Clifton had gone.
Pete Tompkins hereupon stepped to the door and called out:
"Three cheers fur the angel o' the Gila, my hearties. One, two, three!Now! That's it. Now! Death to the Bible school!"
"Death to the Bible school!" shouted they in unison.
The little Indian heard their words. He knew that