[Mrs. R. H. Raymond, A Tale of the Nevada Desert, The Overland Monthly, August 1874]

 

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A TALE OF THE NEVADA DESERT.

            SITTING here, in my sunny window, with geraniums and fuchsias all abloom just outside, and the ghost of last night's shower flitting away toward some eyrie of Monte Diablo, its light footsteps touching the hills with green as it goes, there come before me with all the vividness of utter contrast some of those old desert days—days of some care and toil, and not a few wanderings, but not without many a well-remembered episode of pleasure or novel experience. I wonder if it is the familiar brown eyes of the little lady in navy-blue just flitting by, that have brought back this Morning so vividly the events connected with Nell Gwin's courtship ?

            Do you know the Ooma-Piqua Valley in south -eastern Nevada ? If you do, you remember that in '65 all that region was still down on the maps as "unexplored," though a few hardy spirits were pushing their way through. Blasdell and his party had seen much tribulation in Death Valley, but had got through, and as they came upon Ooma- Piqua, it looked to them — wayworn and weary—as fair as did Canaan to Moses in days of old.

            Among others, we too arrived there, all the way from —th Street, in an Eastern city, where we had studied the latest atlases as of yore they sought the oracle. Our oracle was extremely communicative as far as Council Bluffs, a little more reticent from there to Salt Lake, gushed out again with much confidence at Virginia City and Austin—had not Mr. Colfax and Governor Bross been there ?—but when we required it to break away from the great stage route and take us south from Austin, the oracle stammered, stumbled, and—was dumb. To tell the truth, that was very much the way everything else served us on that eventful trip—mules, wagons, and drivers. But we got there—over 350 miles of weary road—a never-ending succession of wide, gray valleys, bounded in front and behind by bare brown

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mountain ranges, and fading on either hand into gray distance; but, over all, the most glorious blue sky in all the world, and an atmosphere, breathing which you were compensated for all the ills of life—past, present, and to come. At last, standing at the summit of the final range dividing us from "home," and shading our eyes from the morning sun, we gazed down along ten miles of sandy bench-land to where Ooma-Piqua lay in all its beauty. Once in a while, in this land of otherwise utter desolation, some angel of compensation has dropped a gem of a valley, green with turf and crystal-bright with springs ; and the pearl—no, the emerald—of these is Ooma-Piqua. Out of bare, black rocks at the head of the valley rises a spring, bountifully large, and so tempered by inner heat that it has conquered the desert all around it. This is the source of one of the rivers that feed the mysterious Colorado of the South. The little stream from the spring flows down the valley, gathering force and volume from others of its kindred, until at the end of thirty-five miles a lake is formed, inclosed by low hills and holding one or two miniature islands. All along there is tillable land, some of it deep with vegetable mold, and yielding wonderful crops of grain and potatoes. Little wild flowers spring up and even force themselves out into the sandy ravines of the "bench," to meet the cactus and sage -brush and yucca half-way in friendly greeting. This little oasis had at last been discovered by the same sturdy prospectors who had found the western boundary range to be silver-bearing, and, of course, it was not long without a mining-camp; one of those settlements not only almost ubiquitous in Nevada, but peripatetic ; for, when comes a rumor of richer quartz than their own, no matter how many weary miles away, not only the inhabitants but their houses are far off and away.

            But I am not to tell you of the mining fortunes or misfortunes of this camp. I am thinking this morning of another morning just as sunny, in the latter part of '66, when we had arrived at the dignity of a stage from Austin once in two weeks. How I watched it as it rattled down the dusty road, finally stopping in front of the low building which served as mill-office, post-office, and general club- room. Two or three dusty men descended, and then a woman with an unmistakable air, even at that distance, of being fresh from some centre of life and fashion. Our social resources, femininely speaking, had hitherto consisted of a family from "Pike," a good little Norwégienne who "kept de boardinghouse," and the household of an apostate Mormon—of all whitened sepulchres the worst whitewashed. So it was with a little flutter of expectation that I watched H— as he came up the road with a package of papers and letters from beyond the mountains.

            "Who is she? Do tell me who she is."

            "Who's who ? You're as bad as the man that always asked who she was when he heard of any new mischief."

            "Do be good, and don't bother; you know I mean the lady who came in the stage."

            "O!" (circumflex)—"a very nice-looking little lady who came with her brother—a nice young man I should say. Gwin's the name—brought me a letter from old Mr. Hyatt, of our company."

            "Splendid! Where is she going to stay ?"

            "Just what young Gwin asked of me, looking about as if he expected to see a brown -stone front lying around loose somewhere."

            "Couldn't we make room for her here awhile ?"

            "O! no doubt," with a comical look around the one room of our sod cabin ; "I suppose I didn't hear somebody say

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yesterday that she could not and would not live another week without a second room—eh ? "

            "Yes, but the poor little thing, without a soul to welcome her or expect her !  You go right down and bring her up here, and I'll fix it somehow."

            "All right, old lady ; your head generally is pretty level."

            "Don't talk slang, H—, but do as you are bid."

            So Nell Gwin came, and there was a merry time building a nest in a warm corner of the cabin, and improvising a curtain wherewith to separate the guest- chamber from the "drawing-room." The brother—Joe—took his chances with the others; a bunk, or a part of one, as it happened, and the half or the whole of somebody's blankets. The sister was of a graceful, womanly presence, with a fair, oval face lit by bright, honest, brown eyes ; full of helpful, homelike ways, winning her way straight to our hearts. Their little story was told before many days. Their mother had died years ago, but there had been a happy home with the father and the two children in it. Recently, the father's death had broken it up ; and there was, I inferred, only a little money left for the two. "Then papa's friend, Mr. Hyatt," said Nell, "told Joe of these new mines ; said he could make our fortunes if he came out, and offered me a home during Joe's absence ; but of course, I would not let him come without me. With Joe's talents he could do well anywhere, but he thought best to follow Mr. Hyatt's advice."

            Now "Joe's talents" had, so far, developed themselves mostly in the line of late breakfasts, unlimited cigars, and a somewhat supercilious inspection of matters about the camp. In consideration of his introduction, H— had interested himself in the young man, and, as work of some kinds was plenty, had put in his way several chances which promised well. But there seemed to be "nothing that exactly suited, you know," and busy H— could not stop to listen to his ideas as to what would suit. As time went on, and brother Joe still settled to nothing, I could see a worried look creeping into Nell's brown eyes, and at last she said one day, point-blank:    

            "Mrs. H—, I can not trespass upon your hospitality any longer ; don't you know of some little cabin where Joe and I can set up housekeeping ?"

            But I would not hear of it, and besides my long-promised kitchen, I managed to have a room for her added to our house, and then made her help me beautify it in such scant fashion as we could—a few yards of red calico, an old Suisse dress, and some discarded ribbons calling forth some remarkable talent in the upholstery line. Our little house was often the scene of as pleasant an "evening" as if we had been back in —th Street, and able to send cards to whom we would ; for, although the feminine element was so small, there were men there of fine culture, of extended travel, of high scientific attainments, and of soundest practical sense and experience —men who did not stop at the end of their class-books of philosophy and geology and chemistry when they left their colleges, but who went right on into the great laboratory of nature, finding and proving and classifying for themselves, and taking in by the way many a lesson in ethics and mental science by collision with the varied humanity around them. Among others who came and talked of all the things under the sun was a young man, the amalgamator in the quartz-mill which formed the nucleus of the camp. He had been well grounded in mining and metallurgy and general education in Germany, but the pedantry of a freshly imported " Freiburger " had been worn off by the friction of several years of Western life. He was manly, generous,

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devoted to his work, and we had all liked him from the first. After Nell came, it had not taken long for me to develop strong match-making proclivities, and to all appearances the young man would in time become a willing victim to my plots. But Nell seemed to have eyes and ears only for Joe, and her heart was so wholly taken up with Joe's prospects and Joe's success, that I firmly believe she saw no difference for weeks between handsome Will Seaver and fussy old Professor Leon, who had come out as geological "expert" for the N. Y. and O. P. S. M. Co.

            Nell's anxieties increased. H—had finally tried to initiate Joe into part of his own many- sided business. The young fellow was a good accountant, but anyone so utterly irresponsible, unreliable, and aggravating, who had grown to man's estate, was never before seen. In a camp where all were workers, where there were not enough hours in the day for all we had to do, and where the six o'clock whistle found us all astir of mornings, Joe would lounge into the office near noon, and, not insolently but with the gayest insouciance, would ask if there was anything for him to do ! He indulged in no dissipation; neither "valley-tan" nor "poker" had any attractions for him ; but for half the glorious, starry, dewless night, he would roam up and down the valley, whistling an opera clear through, or trolling a ballad. He would charge the quicksilver to the mining account, and the blasting powder and drills were sure to be down upon the "milling" page, and when payday came, every man's account was so inextricably mixed up with every other man's, from the "roustabout" to the superintendent, that H— was obliged sorrowfully to give him up as an exceedingly bad job. Then, a new company wanted a map of their mines, and Joe, who for anything like mapping, drafting, or even designing, did really show a talent, was off in the mountains and as busy as a beaver for a week and more—and Nell's step was light, her eyes bright with hope, and she even vouchsafed a little gracious attention to Seaver's earnest talk.

            But when the work was finished, actually finished, and Joe was back again, he told us with his most lordly air that "of course he had given his services gratuitously, as the company was incurring great expense at the outset ;" and this, when I was morally certain their stock of funds was all but exhausted.

            Will Seaver's kindly blue eyes had taken in a great deal of the state of affairs, and he had quietly tried his best to get Joe interested in something definite; but my lord evidently imagined himself located on a different plane from our hard-working Will, and though most gracious and condescending, never clasped hands in any real friendly sense.

            One day H— came home with a telegram from New York. Telegrams came as far as Salt Lake City in those days over the wires, but from there down they were pony - grams. This one was from the secretary of our company, and read : "Send your most competent man to San Francisco to buy and ship twenty stamps, with pans, etc. Ship by sea to Los Angeles ; from there overland—the man to see it through. Further advices in San Francisco."

            This was good news for our camp, but I asked H— rather wonderingly who would be the "competent ?"

            "I think, Seaver," was his reply. "Smith can do his work, and as I have been through over the road with the first mill, I can post him. He's really the best man I have, and it will be a good card for him; if he puts it through in shape."

            So that night Seaver was up at the house for a good talk, and H— was "posting" him upon foundries and men, steamers and teams, and finally map

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ping out the long desert journey, with its springs and "dry camps" and "divides." During the last part of the talk Joe had' evidently been listening with both eyes and ears, and finally, with the air of one who confers a favor, he said to Will Seaver: "My good fellow, I believe I'll go with you ; I reckon it will be an adventure worth having."

            I think that, for an instant, Seaver was near making a wry face, but a look into Nell's wistful face must have decided him, for he replied simply: "All right, Joe, if you like ! "—and the matter was settled.

            In a few days they were off, out by Austin and Virginia City, and so on to "The Bay," the shortest and quickest way to get there, but back by a long and tedious road, through hot deserts and past scanty and infrequent springs of unrefreshing water ; because the mountains were lower and more easily passed with the heavy machinery on the southern road.

            We heard from them on the way whenever they had opportunity to send us a line, and finally by regular mail from San Francisco. All went well; few delays met them in selecting and getting ready their machinery, and Seaver wrote to H— that Joe was more business-like than he had ever yet seen him. Teams were purchased and shipped to San Pedro to await them at Los Angeles for the start overland. Then a letter came, " We sail to-morrow ; " after a long interval, news of their arrival in Los Angeles ; and, finally, a letter from San Bernardino, which H—said would be the last, as, unless they met teams going out (a most unusual thing), they could send us nothing that would reach us as soon as they themselves would.

            In the meantime, spring advanced with us. The March winds were blowing when they left, but April came balmy and sweet, with cloudless skies. Spring in the desert seems like the faint, intangible shade of some dead spring in greener lands. The bare, brown hills take on no gracious covering of verdure —the sage-brush only gains a deeper tint of gray; there are no little rills to sing spring songs to the blue-birds—but the soft west winds tell you that somewhere the flowers are blooming and the trees are budding, though it may be a thousand miles away.

            With the sandy "bench" spreading away from our back-door to the mountains, how precious seemed the little strip of green in front, winding and curving along the base of the low hills at the eastern side of the valley, just at the caprice of the little rivulet which gave it being! To be sure, much of it was tule grass, and the rest was a wiry, alkalied excuse for the tender turf at home, but it "wore the green ;" in one or two sunny spots there nestled tiny beds of blue violets, and willows and wild-rose bushes grew far down the valley, where the stream broadened.

            Nell and I had many a glorious ramble ; and when H— surprised us with two side-saddles, all the way from Austin, and costing we never dared ask how much, we were queens, indeed. Every nook and corner of the valley was explored, and the little black papooses who at first ran from us in dire dismay, soon got to following us in inconvenient numbers, clamoring for the " bishkit" with which we were always provided. It was in May that we heard from the travelers at San Bernardino, and we looked for them in early June, before the fiercest heats should come. Nell kept up a brave front—was most helpful, and the greatest company and comfort in our little household ; but all that month of May I knew her heart was out on the lonely plains, seeking the brother who, as she once said, "was all she had left." Whether there were any tender thoughts for the other one, she never told.

            About the middle of June, H— be-

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gan to look for them in earnest, though he said a delay of ten or even fifteen days would not alarm him, as there was so much allowance to be made for breakdowns, hunting strayed stock, and all the numerous and inevitable mishaps which old campaigners know so well. The ten days of grace went slowly by, and Nell's brown eyes seemed to grow larger as the pale cheek grew thinner, and her wistful gaze down the valley road made my heart ache. H— said to me one morning: "I don't know that there is real cause for anxiety, but I have fought for a week against what Sister Em would call 'a presentiment.' I gave Seaver every instruction possible about the road and the spring; but if the animals gave out, or those Mexican devils of drivers behaved badly, he might have trouble. If they're not in by Wednesday, I shall start out on the road, but don't say anything to Nell." The next day, however, Nell said something for herself. At breakfast, she spoke as if she could no longer keep back the words : "Mr. H—, can nothing be done ? May I not saddle Prince, and take a canteen and saddle-bags and go to 'The Pass ?' I would get back by a little after dark, and you have said there was a view for miles from that summit." She kept up bravely, hardly a quiver in her voice, and not a tremble of the lip. It was almost too much for H—, who replied : "My dear girl, I will start myself in the morning. You and Mrs. H— shall get everything ready to-day, and I'll be off by daybreak."

            Nell looked her thanks, and seemed almost happy now that she could be doing. We made ready a capacious cantina with coffee, a roll of soft linen, and everything that our wits and H—'s experience suggested, with many an unspoken prayer that the things so full of suggestions of want and suffering might not be required. At last all was done, and nothing remained but to fold our hands and watch the day die. Some chance word of mine touched the strained cord which had held poor Nell's feelings in leash so long, and she threw herself at my feet, and, putting her head in my lap, sobbed it all out. I kept utter silence, for she knew by this time that no words were needed between us two. But at last she spoke: "Dear Mrs. H—, will you not beg your husband to let me go, too ? Another day of inaction and suspense will kill me. I will be no trouble; I am strong ; besides, our two horses can carry double the quantity of food and water, and—and there are two of the lost ones. If we should find them, they can both ride. O! Mrs. H—," and then the words came faster and the face was turned farther away, "I have been so wicked ! It is both of them I want saved. Mr. Seaver spoke to me before he went, but I was so selfishly bound up in Joe that I let him start on that dreadful journey without one word to tell him how my heart ached. I thought it was treason to Joe, and now I am going to be punished my life long." It had come to be almost undisputed between us that something was wrong, and I let her take it for granted ; but I gave her what comfort I could, and promised to do my best with H—, though I was about hopeless on that score. However, after the preliminary remarks which I expected, evincing great disgust at being "bothered with a woman," he began to be reasonable, and finally yielded with such grace as he could muster, and with only this parting sally, " When Seaver gets here, if he don't marry the girl and get her off my hands in less than a week, I'll discharge him!" which, on the whole, I considered very mild for H—.

            By daybreak next morning, Prince and Sultan were saddled and bridled, and the relief guard were off down the valley at a great pace, with many a prayer for success from me. I, left behind to wait, considered that I had the hard

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est of it, and busied myself in making the house as dainty as possible, and cooking up provisions enough for the entire camp, with the vague idea that I was getting ready for something unusual.

            The animals showed their mettle finely; and, before noon, H— and Nell had reached the Pass, and had stopped a necessary but interminable half-hour to refresh the horses. Then, great as was their impatience, they felt that they must proceed slowly, for every mile of the way must be closely scanned for any clue. Nell had thoughtfully slung from her saddle a picnic case much used in the happy days of early spring, and a field-glass, which proved of the utmost value. How often they paused to sweep that awful desert, as they plodded along the hot sandy road ! Some two or three hours before noon, when the sun beamed down from the cloudless sky with fiercest ray, Nell was looking off to the right of the road ; suddenly she started, freed the glass from dust, and looked again ; then, too excited to speak, gave it to H—, and pointed to where a grease-wood bush grew somewhat higher than the surrounding sage-brush. All H— saw was a dark cloth fluttering from the top of the bush in the fitful wind that was like a furnace blast. It might be only a rag, caught from the scanty apparel of some wandering Ute, but it might mean more, and they would leave no clue unfollowed. So, almost without a word, they swung off the road and through the brush. Only half the distance was accomplished, when, from behind the bush they were watching with such strained eyes, there slowly rose a tall, gaunt figure, reaching out such beseeching arms to them, that, with a fresh spur to the horses, they almost flew over the remaining distance, neither horses nor riders seeming to breathe in that moment of supreme excitement. For all her woman's dress, Nell was first to the ground, the canteen in her band as she sprung. With one look for Joe, who lay in the scant shade of the grease-wood, she walked straight to Will Seaver, and, only saying, "My darling, thank God we are in time," she forced him gently down and gave him to drink, while H— was at Joe's side, trembling lest the sleep of unconsciousness should be his last sleep. One draught of the heaven-sent water, and then dear, unselfish Will turned to see if Joe could drink, saying, as well as his poor swollen lips and tongue would let him, "I tried to save him for you, Nell." This was all just then, for a few moments of blessed unconsciousness came after the long strain, and there was plenty of work for both the relief guard. Nell's love, at last acknowledged, showed itself in every busy movement, as she worked for the two, with more good sense and deftness, as H—admitted, than any two men.

            Joe proved to be the better off of the two, and a cool, damp cloth laid upon his forehead, soon roused him to the blessed consciousness of a cup of water just ready for his lips. In a little while a fragrant fire was burning and soup and coffee heating, while Nell, most prudent of physicians, gave each at intervals a few spoonfuls of weak brandy and water. By the time their soup was ready they were able to stand almost steadily upon their feet. Soon the little cavalcade had started back toward the Pass ; Seaver and Joe riding, not without many protestations from Seaver, who was, however, completely under petticoat government.

            As they went, a plan was developed which was Nell's own and which proved her wisdom in coming at all. They, having saddle-blankets and provisions enough for comfort, should camp for the night at the little spring in the Pass ; while she came up to the settlement and sent back for them a comfortable wagon. By this time the whole three had

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about resigned themselves to Nell as captain of the expedition, and she encountered no opposition worth speaking of. Leaving H— to keep up a fire and give them nourishment at short intervals, and never waiting a moment for rest, she was in the saddle again, and a little past midnight her knock aroused me from a light slumber as I sat by the fire. One look in her happy face told me that all was well, but I saw there was yet work to be done. A few hurried words told me how things were, and we soon had the watchman taking care of Prince, and had roused two or three others, who promised to be off by daylight for their welcome passengers. Then I got our dear girl home, and, by dint of much coaxing and representing to her all that still remained to do, I got her to undress quietly and go to bed. She slept soundly at last, just waking for a moment with a pleased smile at day-dawn, as the wagon rattled by.

            By candle -light that evening they were with us, and we were listening, a little at a time, to the story of their journey. Almost as soon as he could speak, Seaver had told H— that the wagons and machinery were safe a little the other side of Las Vegas. The summer had been a dreadful one even for the Colorado Desert; part of the animals were bronchos, and, after a hard trip, a number of them had sickened and died—so many that there were not enough left to pull the wagons. They had come on with the remnant to Las Vegas, and there the Mexican drivers had declared they would go no farther. Seaver had offered every inducement to get even a few of them to come on with him, but neither inducements nor intimidation had served, and he and Joe took saddle animals and started for the valley alone. But, worst fortune of all, they had missed a spring, the only one in fifty miles ; go back they would not, but pressed on until the animals would go no farther, but laid their weary carcasses on the desert sands to rest forever. Then, divesting themselves of every ounce of unnecessary weight and half-dead with thirst, the two men toiled on. When Nell and H— found them, Joe had fallen asleep in one of those merciful moments of relief when the thirst seems all gone, and was dreaming of rippling streams and blue lakes; while poor Will, burning and almost insane with a dreadful paroxysm, kept his faithful guard until the last.

            How happy we all were that evening! Nell and Will, now formally "engaged," showed their happiness frankly, but there was no danger of any "sickly sentimentality" from them. Joe, with a more serious look than I had ever seen in his boyish face, gave to Seaver his due of grateful praise and warm acknowledgment, and welcomed most heartily the new family arrangement—greatly, I confess, to my surprise. But Joe's face-to-face encounter with the realities of life and death had wrought a greater change than any of us could then believe, and since that time he has taken hold of life with both hands, and his one little talent of architectural ability has developed into a noble and remunerative profession.

            The week after was a busy one. H—scoured the valley and the mountains for horses, mules, oxen—anything that could draw—and started them and drivers after the, mill. Seaver and Joe, after submitting to two or three days of petting and spoiling, were on their feet and into the thick of the work. Letters and telegrams were sent to New York, and the company, for once forsaking the time-honored custom of sending out superannuated dry-goods clerks to conduct vast enterprises, bestowed upon Seaver the charge of the new mill.  H— and I, too, had work to do. We were quietly fitting up, with such

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comforts as we could gather, a little cabin near the new mill- site. Before the end of the busy week, H— announced one evening at supper, with a queer twinkle in his eye, that we were to have a call from the State Geologist. I remarked, rather saucily, that I didn't see anything very funny in that.

            "Couldn't you and Nell get up a little supper to- morrow evening, and invite some of our friends to meet him ?"

            "I suppose we could, but that's rather a queer idea; and if you will be so kind as to tell what you're so very mysterious about, I'm sure I'd be obliged."

            "O, nothing—only our State Geologist happens to be the Rev. Mr. Black, a minister in good and regular standing, and it does seem a pity to let such a chance slip ; don't it, Nell ?"

            Her face flamed as she saw what he meant, and she disappeared in great haste through the open door, I suppose to look after the weather. But Will Seaver must have pleaded his cause well during their sunset walk, for, the next evening, Ooma-Piqua society was convulsed to its very foundations by the excitement attending the happy ending of Nell Gwin's courtship.