“WHEN YOU CAN FORGET”
It was nearly a month before Bess Fletcher fully recovered from the
shock she had experienced. She was now ready to go to New York to
rejoin her brother. Whenever she thought of leaving the ranch, of going
away from Mrs. West, giving up her horse, of tearing herself away from
the wonderful mountains, the lake and all its beloved haunts, it seemed
as if she could not go. Her bitterness toward Henry West had grown less
as she analyzed his motive, and from his mother learned what had really
prompted him in his impulsive act. She had not seen him during the
weeks which followed the tragedy, but now that she was leaving she felt
that she must speak to him and say good-bye.
She was waiting for him in the living-room. Seating herself at the
piano her fingers unconsciously sought the strain of _Mon Desir_, and
in a soft, tender voice she sang.
The dark, silent man entered unnoticed and stood in the center of the
room, his hands clenched, his eyes half closed, listening. When she
finished she brushed away her unbidden tears and turned to discover her
listener. Rising abruptly she walked to him extending her hand. “I am
sorry—for—for—Can you forgive me for wounding you so deeply? I did not
understand then; now I do.”
“Never mind little—Bess. I richly deserve it all. Let’s not say any
more about it.” Then he added, “If you prefer to ride Mauchacho to
Selish I will accompany you. Your trunks can go on the stage. It will
be our last—ride—together, you know.”
“Yes—yes—one more ride! But we must start within an hour. I’ll go and
dress,” answered the girl, and she hurried to her room.
It seemed when Bess bade Mrs. West good-bye that both their hearts
were being wrung asunder. Twice, thrice the girl re-entered the house
to kiss the little mother, to feel a mother’s embrace again, to know
a mother’s love once more. Although the little Mother stood at the
window, blinding tears hid the departing loved ones long before the
turn in the road was reached.
During the long ride both were silent. Bess was looking with all her
eyes at the familiar scenes along the road, as if she would impress
them indelibly upon her mind and heart. Whenever West did speak it
was to ask some question regarding James, or perhaps to make some
suggestion concerning her journey.
At last the summit of the hill near Selish was reached. Bess drew rein
and turned in the saddle to view again the scene which had first met
her gaze more than a year ago. It still lay the same, all unchanged,
all inspiring. She gave a sigh as she hurried on to overtake Henry
West, nearly at the foot of the hill. When every detail of her journey
had been attended to he came to Bess to say good-bye.
“Oh, let me go to the top of the hill and say good-bye there to you—to
Mauchacho—to the West!”
Reaching the summit they dismounted. Bess threw her arms about her
horse’s neck and buried her face against his cheek. What was it she
heard—what!
“Good-bye—dear—good-bye, hope—life—love! Oh! little one; if you could
have only loved me! Some day—some time, will you come back—when you can
forget that tragedy—when you can forget—_that I am an Indian_?”
His voice swayed her soul as a wind sways a fire. He loved her and
she had not even dreamed it! How could she have been so blind? She
felt her heart fill to bursting with a delicious joy which had never
possessed it before. Love it was—_love_—she knew now! Lifting her face
gently to his, her eyes soft with a new tenderness and lips parted in
wonderment at the fullness, the richness of the new sense, she said,
“When—I—can—forget—forget!” Henry understood. He bowed and turned.
She stood motionless watching the rider and the empty saddle descend
the hill. She stood with the soft light of the evening sky making a
halo about her, and saw him ride silently down into the shadow of the
valley. Was it perhaps to him “the valley of the shadow,” for what was
there left in life for him now except death?
Once he turned and saw the girl still standing on the crest enfolded
in a flood of crimson light. As he looked, it faded swiftly into
purple—and then to grey. He lifted his sombrero and rode on, on to the
foot of the hill, and then turned once more. With an anguished cry she
started forward.
“I cannot go—I cannot leave all this. I cannot live without you now!
Henry—Henry West! _I—have forgotten!_”
* * * * * *
Transcriber’s note:
Punctuation has been corrected silently.
Hyphenation has been standardized.
As in the original, the Table of Contents lists Chapter XII as
beginning on page 97. Please note that in actuality, the chapter begins
on page 98.
Throughout the book, “breed”, ’breed and breed are used as abbreviated
versions of half-breed. These variations have been retained.
Page 68, “nonchalent” changed to “nonchalant”. (She brushed her wet
cheeks with her sleeve in her haste to appear nonchalant to the
approaching horsemen, whom she could hear hastening after her.)
Page 69, “begrimmed” changed to “begrimed”. (One hand tightly clasped a
prayer book, while the other tried in vain to lift the already begrimed
cassock out of the dust.)
Page 110, “wierd” changed to “weird”. (The Indians had flung off their
blankets, and with wild and weird shouts, plunged their horses into the
water.)
Page 185, “kinnikinnic” changed to “kinnikinick” for consistency.
(Every rock and stump was beautiful with its creeping wreath of
kinnikinick, whose glossy foliage and large scarlet berries puts to
shame the holly.)
Page 211, the caption of the sunset illustration has been moved closer
to its mention in the text.
Page 216, “creepy” changed to “crepy”. (Pale yellow crepe, soft,
silken, crepy, with knots and loops of brilliant orange-colored velvet.)