Arizona -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Western stories
“I loved Surprise Valley. I wanted to stay there always. I remembered
Cottonwoods, how the children there hated me, and I didn't want to go
back. The only unhappy times I ever had in the valley were when Ring and
Whitie, my dogs, grew old and died. I roamed the valley. I climbed to
every nook upon the mossy ledges. I learned to run up the steep cliffs.
I could almost stick on the straight walls. Mother Jane called me a wild
girl. We had put away the clothes we wore when we got there, to save
them, and we made clothes of skins. I always laughed when I thought of
my little dress--how I grew out of it. I think Uncle Jim and Mother Jane
talked less as the years went by. And after I'd learned all she could
teach me we didn't talk much. I used to scream into the caves just to
hear my voice, and the echoes would frighten me.
“The older I grew the more I was alone. I was always running round the
valley. I would climb to a high place and sit there for hours,
doing nothing. I just watched and listened. I used to stay in the
cliff-dwellers' caves and wonder about them. I loved to be out in the
wind. And my happiest time was in the summer storms with the thunder
echoes under the walls. At evening it was such a quiet place--after
the night bird's cry, no sound. The quiet made me sad but I loved it. I
loved to watch the stars as I lay awake.
“So it was beautiful and happy for me there till--till...
“Two years or more ago there was a bad storm, and one of the great walls
caved. The walls were always weathering, slipping. Many and many a time
have I heard the rumble of an avalanche, but most of them were in other
cañon. This slide in the valley made it possible, Uncle Jim said,
for men to get down into the valley. But we could not climb out unless
helped from above. Uncle Jim never rested well after that. But it never
worried me.
“One day, over a year ago, while I was across the valley, I heard
strange shouts, and then screams. I ran to our camp. I came upon men
with ropes and guns. Uncle Jim was tied, and a rope was round his neck.
Mother Jane was lying on the ground. I thought she was dead until I
heard her moan. I was not afraid. I screamed and flew at Uncle Jim to
tear the ropes off him. The men held me back. They called me a pretty
cat. Then they talked together, and some were for hanging Lassiter--that
was the first time I ever knew any name for him but Uncle Jim--and some
were for leaving him in the valley. Finally they decided to hang him.
But Mother Jane pleaded so and I screamed and fought so that they left
off. Then they went away and we saw them climb out of the valley.
“Uncle Jim said they were Mormons, and some among them had been born in
Cottonwoods. I was not told why they had such a terrible hate for him.
He said they would come back and kill him. Uncle Jim had no guns to
fight with.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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