AT SUNSET
It was Dr. Mishell speaking.
"My dear young lady, if Mr. Hastings must go to England, as he says he must, he should not go alone. He needs care. I have recommended you as a competent nurse." His eyes twinkled.
"Is it safe for him to travel now?" asked Esther.
"If he makes the journey by slow stages."
The physician spoke with some hesitation.
"At any rate he should get out of this intense heat as soon as possible."
"But the ocean voyage," she suggested.
"Probably do him good."
The physician had already extended his congratulations to them. Before leaving, he gripped Kenneth's hand, and said heartily:
"My nurse will be a helpmate to you. She is a woman of sense."
While he still gripped Kenneth's hand, he turned to Esther, and extended his other hand to her. He placed her hand in Kenneth's, and said impressively:
"'What God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.' Miss Bright, you are to marry a true man. Always trust him."
His eyes filled. He turned abruptly and was gone.
Poor Dr. Mishell!
The wilting heat of August was upon them.
At evening, Esther, wearied with packing trunks, joined Kenneth on the veranda. As she sat there, Wathemah ran to her, and flung a bunch of flowers in her lap.
"Why do you leave me?" he asked.
She put her arm about him, and told him she was going home, a long, long way from there, and that Mr. Hastings was going with her.
"Wathemah go, too?" he asked.
Both laughed.
"No, little chap," she said, drawing him closer to her, "not this time."
"Wathemah go, too," he said, reproachfully, looking at Kenneth with marked disapproval.
"Do you love your teacher?" asked Kenneth. He, too, liked the child.
Wathemah nodded.
"Would you like to be her boy, and live with her always?"
Wathemah placed one arm about his teacher's neck, and said softly:
"Wathemah's mother!"
Kenneth laughed again, and declared he was jealous.
Then Esther told the little fellow she would come back to Gila and get him, and he should then go to live with her always.
"Take me now," he urged.
"No, dear," she said.
With that, he sprang from her, and walked proudly out of the yard, on toward the canyon, without turning, or looking back.
"A nugget of gold from the Rockies," said Kenneth, looking after him.
"An Arizona cactus," she replied, "lovely, but hard to handle."
Wathemah trudged up the canyon, to his favorite bowlder, where he went, often, to listen to the waters. There, he threw himself down, and cried himself to sleep. He had slept a half-hour, perhaps, when he was awakened by voices.
"Why, here's Wathemah," called out Jack Harding.
Another spoke, "He's a queer un. He never will be civilized."
The group of cowboys gathered about the child.
"What's the matter, sonny?" asked his friend, Jack Harding.
Then he told them of his teacher's refusal to take him with her.
"Don't cry, little kid!" said Jack. "Here, boys, let's give him money ter go home with Miss Bright. I'll jest ask her ter take him along with her, an' I'll pay fur his keep. Don't cry, sonny. It's all right. Down in y'r pockets, pards, an' fork out some money fur Wathemah. We saved him, an' raised him, yer know."
His own hand went down into his pockets, and into his hat went a roll of bills. He passed his hat, and soon it was full of bills and silver dollars.
That evening, it began to be whispered about that Wathemah was to go with Miss Bright. But of this rumor she knew nothing.
Two days later, the hands of young men and maidens were busy decorating the Clayton home for the wedding of Esther Bright and Kenneth Hastings. Cactus blossoms of exquisite form and color were used. Not only the interior of the house, but the veranda and yard as well, were one glorious mass of color.
Jack Harding worked faithfully, stopping now and then to talk with Kenneth, who lay on a couch on the veranda.
Carla, too, was busy, putting artistic touches here and there. She, too, came often to the sick man's side.
But Esther was forbidden to work, and when she persisted, Mr. Clayton captured her and took her off for a ride. She was to be married at sunset.
While they were out driving, one of John Clayton's cowboys drove up from the station, bringing David Bright and an English clergyman, a friend of Kenneth's, with him.
When Esther returned, and found her grandfather, her joy knew no bounds.
"I wish now, Kenneth, that we were to marry ourselves, as Friends do," she said, "but grandfather can give me away."
The guests who had been bidden, gathered in the yard, just as the glory of the sunset began. There was Bobbie, with the Carmichaels; there were some of the cowboys and cowlasses, miners and ranchers who had attended the meetings; all the Clayton household; Dr. Mishell and Sister Mercy, Miss Gale, and Wathemah were there. Jack Harding kept a close watch on Wathemah, not knowing just what he might do.
As the sun neared the horizon, the clergyman took his place in the yard, Kenneth stepped forward, and waited. Esther Bright, in a sheer white gown, freshly laundered,—a gown she had worn many times as she had ministered to the sick, came forward on the arm of her stately old grandfather, who gave her away. His benign face seemed to hallow the hour.
The colors in the sky seemed to vie with the cactus blossoms. Yellows, and violets, and deep crimson, faint clouds with golden edges, violet, then rose-colored, all melting into the dome of the sky.
The man and the woman were repeating the marriage ritual of the Church of England, while this miracle of beauty flashed through the heavens.
The plaintive cry of the mourning dove rang out, followed by the cheerful piping of a cardinal.
The human voices went on with the solemnest vows man and woman may speak.
The exquisite notes of the cardinal, then of a thrush, accompanied their voices. The beauty of the dying day played over Esther Bright and Kenneth Hastings, as they stood in the glory of their youth, and of their love.
Just as the clergyman pronounced the closing words of the marriage service, the heavens leaped into a splendor of color; a mocking bird caught up all the songs that had furnished an obligato to the marriage service; and, as if to outdo all the other feathered songsters, burst into a perfect ecstasy of song.
In the midst of the congratulations and feasting, Wathemah kept close to Esther's side.
The following day, Kenneth, Esther and David Bright were to begin their long journey eastward. The day dawned. All Gila gathered at the distant station to bid them God speed.
"Where is Wathemah?" Esther asked.
"I don't know," answered a miner. "I found him cryin' 'cause yer wouldn't take him with yer."
"Poor little chap! But where's Jack?" she questioned.
"There they be," said a ranchman, pointing to Jack and Wathemah, standing apart from the crowd. She stepped toward them.
"I have come to say good-by," she said. "You won't forget, Jack, to follow the Christ; you won't forget to pray?"
She laid her hand on his arm. He stood battling with himself. Her tender voice, her eyes filled with tears, almost unmanned him.
"Is it not much, do yer think, ter let yer go, as have brought me ter know God, as have learned me ter live right, an' have been like God's angel ter me? God help me!" The strong man's face worked, and he turned from her. After a moment, he put his hand in his pocket, and drew forth the Bible she had given him.
"I wisht I'd a knowed about this when I was a lad. My life'd ben differnt. I thank yer fur all yer've done fur me, and all yer've learned me. But it seems I can't let yer go. God help me!"
He stood with head bent and hands clinched.
At last, Esther spoke again:
"Good-by, John. You have fought a good fight, and conquered. Now, help the others with all your might." Ah, how much she had helped him in his battle!
He grasped her hand and held it. So they stood. Then he said:
"Take the little kid with yer. Give him a chance. I'll send him money as long as I live. I ain't got nobody else ter care fur."
She would help the strong man, now, if she could; but how could she? He had this battle to fight alone.
"You wish me to take Wathemah, John?"
"Yes. Give him a chance,—differnt surroundings."
He lifted a bag of money.
"This 'ere holds nearly one hunderd dollars. The boys give it to Wathemah ter go home with yer."
"Did they? How generous!"
The child ran to her, fearful he should be left behind. She hesitated. How could she care for her convalescent husband, and this impetuous, high-strung child? She turned to Kenneth and spoke with him.
Jack lifted Wathemah in his arms and kissed him, saying:
"Good-by, little pard. Mind now, no more cussin'."
David Bright, who had overheard the conversation, now stepped forward, and said, "Let the child go with us, Esther, if those who have reared him consent."
Both Mr. and Mrs. Keith, who stood near him, signified their willingness. The party then entered the Pullman, and a few minutes later, the train drew out from the station.
Esther and Wathemah went to the rear platform, and watched till a turn in the road hid their friends from their sight. After a time Kenneth joined them.
"Tears, Esther?" he said, lifting her face.
"But not of sorrow," she returned.
He put an arm around each, and they stood looking down upon the majesty of the scene through which they were passing.
One looking back to that moment, would say it had been prophetic of the future. The man of power, destined to become a determining factor in the development of the great Southwest; the woman at his side, great of heart and brain and soul; and this little prince of the Rockies, with his splendid heritage of courage, destined to be the educational leader of his race. And it was this woman of vision, who, during the years that were to come, saw clearly the great work her husband and foster son might do, and nerved them for it by her faith in the work, and their power to do it.