The Call Of The Canyon, Zane Grey [good non fiction books to read txt] 📗

Spite

Of All. . . . Glenn's Business Is Raising Hogs. He Has A Hog Ranch. Doesn't

It Sound Sordid? But Things Are Not Always What They Sound--Or Seem. Glenn

Is Absorbed In His Work. I Hated It--I Expected To Ridicule It. But I Ended

By Infinitely Respecting Him. I Learned Through His Hog-Raising The Real

Nobility Of Work. . . . Well,  At Last I Found Courage To Ask Him When He

Was Coming Back To New York. He Said 'Never!' . . . I Realized Then My

Blindness,  My Selfishness. I Could Not Be His Wife And Live There. I Could

Not. I Was Too Small,  Too Miserable,  Too Comfort-Loving--Too Spoiled. And

All The Time He Knew This--Knew I'd Never Be Big Enough To Marry Him. . . .

That Broke My Heart. I Left Him Free--And Here I Am. . . . I Beg You--Don't

Ask Me Any More--And Never To Mention It To Me--So I Can Forget."

 

The Tender Unspoken Sympathy Of Women Who Loved Her Proved Comforting In

That Trying Hour. With The Confession Ruthlessly Made The Hard Compression

In Carley's Breast Subsided,  And Her Eyes Cleared Of A Hateful Dimness.

Chapter 8 Pg 132

When They Reached The Taxi Stand Outside The Station Carley Felt A Rush Of

Hot Devitalized Air From The Street. She Seemed Not To Be Able To Get Air

Into Her Lungs.

 

"Isn't It Dreadfully Hot?" She Asked.

 

"This Is A Cool Spell To What We Had Last Week," Replied Eleanor.

 

"Cool!" Exclaimed Carley,  As She Wiped Her Moist Face. "I Wonder If You

Easterners Know The Real Significance Of Words."

 

Then They Entered A Taxi,  To Be Whisked Away Apparently Through A

Labyrinthine Maze Of Cars And Streets,  Where Pedestrians Had To Run And

Jump For Their Lives. A Congestion Of Traffic At Fifth Avenue And

Forty-Second Street Halted Their Taxi For A Few Moments,  And Here In The

Thick Of It Carley Had Full Assurance That She Was Back In The Metropolis.

Her Sore Heart Eased Somewhat At Sight Of The Streams Of People Passing To

And Fro. How They Rushed! Where Were They Going? What Was Their Story? And

All The While Her Aunt Held Her Hand,  And Beatrice And Eleanor Talked As

Fast As Their Tongues Could Wag. Then The Taxi Clattered On Up The Avenue,

To Turn Down A Side Street And Presently Stop At Carley's Home. It Was A

Modest Three-Story Brown-Stone House. Carley Had Been So Benumbed By

Sensations That She Did Not Imagine She Could Experience A New One. But

Peering Out Of The Taxi,  She Gazed Dubiously At The Brownish-Red Stone

Steps And Front Of Her Home.

 

"I'm Going To Have It Painted," She Muttered,  As If To Herself.

 

Her Aunt And Her Friends Laughed,  Glad And Relieved To Hear Such A

Practical Remark From Carley. How Were They To Divine That This

Brownish-Red Stone Was The Color Of Desert Rocks And Canyon Walls?

 

In A Few More Moments Carley Was Inside The House,  Feeling A Sense Of

Protection In The Familiar Rooms That Had Been Her Home For Seventeen

Years. Once In The Sanctity Of Her Room,  Which Was Exactly As She Had Left

It,  Her First Action Was To Look In The Mirror At Her Weary,  Dusty,  Heated

Face. Neither The Brownness Of It Nor The Shadow Appeared To Harmonize With

The Image Of Her That Haunted The Mirror.

 

"Now!" She Whispered Low. "It's Done. I'm Home. The Old Life--Or A New Life?

How To Meet Either. Now!"

 

Thus She Challenged Her Spirit. And Her Intelligence Rang At Her The

Imperative Necessity For Action,  For Excitement,  For Effort That Left No

Chapter 8 Pg 133

Time For Rest Or Memory Or Wakefulness. She Accepted The Issue. She Was

Glad Of The Stern Fight Ahead Of Her. She Set Her Will And Steeled Her

Heart With All The Pride And Vanity And Fury Of A Woman Who Had Been

Defeated But Who Scorned Defeat. She Was What Birth And Breeding And

Circumstance Had Made Her. She Would Seek What The Old Life Held.

 

What With Unpacking And Chatting And Telephoning And Lunching,  The Day Soon

Passed. Carley Went To Dinner With Friends And Later To A Roof Garden. The

Color And Light,  The Gayety And Music,  The News Of Acquaintances,  The Humor

Of The Actors--All,  In Fact,  Except The Unaccustomed Heat And Noise,  Were

Most Welcome And Diverting. That Night She Slept The Sleep Of Weariness.

 

Awakening Early,  She Inaugurated A Habit Of Getting Up At Once,  Instead Of

Lolling In Bed,  And Breakfasting There,  And Reading Her Mail,  As Had Been

Her Wont Before Going West. Then She Went Over Business Matters With Her

Aunt,  Called On Her Lawyer And Banker,  Took Lunch With Rose Maynard,  And

Spent The Afternoon Shopping. Strong As She Was,  The Unaccustomed Heat And

The Hard Pavements And The Jostle Of Shoppers And The Continual Rush Of

Sensations Wore Her Out So Completely That She Did Not Want Any Dinner. She

Talked To Her Aunt A While,  Then Went To Bed.

 

Next Day Carley Motored Through Central Park,  And Out Of Town Into

Westchester County,  Finding Some Relief From The Seemed To Look At The

Dusty Trees And The Worn Greens Without Really Seeing Them. In The

Afternoon She Called On Friends,  And Had Dinner At Home With Her Aunt,  And

Then Went To A Theatre. The Musical Comedy Was Good,  But The Almost

Unbearable Heat And The Vitiated Air Spoiled Her Enjoyment. That Night Upon

Arriving Home At Midnight She Stepped Out Of The Taxi,  And Involuntarily,

Without Thought,  Looked Up To See The Stars. But There Were No Stars. A

Murky Yellow-Tinged Blackness Hung Low Over The City. Carley Recollected

That Stars,  And Sunrises And Sunsets,  And Untainted Air,  And Silence Were

Not For City Dwellers. She Checked Any Continuation Of The Thought.

 

A Few Days Sufficed To Swing Her Into The Old Life. Many Of Carley's

Friends Had Neither The Leisure Nor The Means To Go Away From The City

During The Summer. Some There Were Who Might Have Afforded That If They Had

Seen Fit To Live In Less Showy Apartments,  Or To Dispense With Cars. Other

Of Her Best Friends Were On Their Summer Outings In The Adirondacks. Carley

Chapter 8 Pg 134

Decided To Go With Her Aunt To Lake Placid About The First Of August.

Meanwhile She Would Keep Going And Doing.

 

She Had Been A Week In Town Before Morrison Telephoned Her And Added His

Welcome. Despite The Gay Gladness Of His Voice,  It Irritated Her. Really,

She Scarcely Wanted To See Him. But A Meeting Was Inevitable,  And Besides,

Going Out With Him Was In Accordance With The Plan She Had Adopted. So She

Made An Engagement To Meet Him At The Plaza For Dinner. When With Slow And

Pondering Action She Hung Up The Receiver It Occurred To Her That She

Resented The Idea Of Going To The Plaza. She Did Not Dwell On The Reason Why.

 

When Carley Went Into The Reception Room Of The Plaza That Night Morrison

Was Waiting For Her--The Same Slim,  Fastidious,  Elegant,  Sallow-Faced

Morrison Whose Image She Had In Mind,  Yet Somehow Different. He Had What

Carley Called The New York Masculine Face,  Blase And Lined,  With Eyes That

Gleamed,  Yet Had No Fire. But At Sight Of Her His Face Lighted Up.

 

"By Jove! But You've Come Back A Peach!" He Exclaimed,  Clasping Her

Extended Hand. "Eleanor Told Me You Looked Great. It's Worth Missing You To

See You Like This."

 

"Thanks,  Larry," She Replied. "I Must Look Pretty Well To Win That

Compliment From You. And How Are You Feeling? You Don't Seem Robust For A

Golfer And Horseman. But Then I'm Used To Husky Westerners."

 

"Oh,  I'm Fagged With The Daily Grind," He Said. "I'll Be Glad To Get Up In

The Mountains Next Month. Let's Go Down To Dinner."

 

They Descended The Spiral Stairway To The Grillroom,  Where An Orchestra Was

Playing Jazz,  And Dancers Gyrated On A Polished Floor,  And Diners In

Evening Dress Looked On Over Their Cigarettes.

 

"Well,  Carley,  Are You Still Finicky About The Eats?" He Queried,

Consulting The Menu.

 

"No. But I Prefer Plain Food," She Replied.

 

"Have A Cigarette," He Said,  Holding Out His Silver Monogrammed Case.

 

"Thanks,  Larry. I--I Guess I'll Not Take Up Smoking Again. You See,  While I

Was West I Got Out Of The Habit."

 

"Yes,  They Told Me You Had Changed," He Returned. "How About Drinking?"

 

Chapter 8 Pg 135

"Why,  I Thought New York Had Gone Dry!" She Said,  Forcing A Laugh.

 

"Only On The Surface. Underneath It's Wetter Than Ever."

 

"Well,  I'll Obey The Law."

 

He Ordered A Rather Elaborate Dinner,  And Then Turning His Attention To

Carley,  Gave Her Closer Scrutiny. Carley Knew Then That He Had Become

Acquainted With The Fact Of Her Broken Engagement. It Was A Relief Not To

Need To Tell Him.

 

"How's That Big Stiff,  Kilbourne?" Asked Morrison,  Suddenly. "Is It True He

Got Well?"

 

"Oh--Yes! He's Fine," Replied Carley With Eyes Cast Down. A Hot Knot Seemed

To Form Deep Within Her And Threatened To Break And Steal Along Her Veins.

"But If You Please--I Do Not Care To Talk Of Him."

 

"Naturally. But I Must Tell You That One Man's Loss Is Another's Gain."

 

Carley Had Rather Expected Renewed Courtship From Morrison. She Had Not,

However,  Been Prepared For The Beat Of Her Pulse,  The Quiver Of Her Nerves,

The Uprising Of Hot Resentment At The Mere Mention Of Kilbourne. It Was

Only Natural That Glenn's Former Rivals Should Speak Of Him,  And Perhaps

Disparagingly. But From This Man Carley Could Not Bear Even A Casual

Reference. Morrison Had Escaped The Army Service. He Had Been Given A

High-Salaried Post At The