Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

A Study In Scarlet PART 2 : Chapter 2 THE FLOWER OF UTAH

THIS is not the place to commemorate the trials and privations endured bythe immigrant Mormons before they came to their final haven. From theshores of the Mississippi to the western slopes of the Rocky Mountainsthey had struggled on with a constancy almost unparalleled in history.The savage man, and the savage beast, hunger, thirst, fatigue, anddisease-every impediment which Nature could place in the way-had allbeen overcome with Anglo-Saxon tenacity. Yet the long journey and theaccumulated terrors had shaken the hearts of the stoutest among them.There was not one who did not sink upon his knees in heartfelt prayerwhen they saw the broad valley of Utah bathed in the sunlight beneaththem, and learned from the lips of their leader that this was the promisedland, and that these virgin acres were to be theirs for evermore.Young speedily proved himself to be a skilful administrator as well as aresolute chief. Maps were drawn and charts prepared, in which the futurecity was sketched out. All around farms were apportioned and allotted inproportion to the standing of each individual. The tradesman was put tohis trade and the artisan to his calling. In the town streets and squaressprang up as if by magic. In the country there was draining and hedging,planting and clearing, until the next summer saw the whole countrygolden with the wheat crop. Everything prospered in the strangesettlement. Above all, the great temple which they had erected in thecentre of the city grew ever taller and larger. From the first blush of dawnuntil the closing of the twilight, the clatter of the hammer and the rasp ofthe saw were never absent from the monument which the immigrantserected to Him who had led them safe through many dangers.The two castaways, John Ferrier and the little girl, who had shared hisfortunes and had been adopted as his daughter, accompanied theMormons to the end of their great pilgrimage. Little Lucy Ferrier wasborne along pleasantly enough in Elder Stangerson's wagon, a retreatwhich she shared with the Mormon's three wives and with his son, aheadstrong, forward boy of twelve. Having rallied, with the elasticity ofchildhood, from the shock caused by her mother's death, she soon becamea pet with the women, and reconciled herself to this new life in hermoving canvas-covered home. In the meantime Ferrier having recoveredfrom his privations, distinguished himself as a useful guide and anindefatigable hunter. So rapidly did he gain the esteem of his newcompanions, that when they reached [59] the end of their wanderings, itwas unanimously agreed that he should be provided with as large and asfertile a tract of land as any of the settlers, with the exception of Young himself, and of Stangerson, Kemball, Johnston, and Drebber, who werethe four principal Elders.On the farm thus acquired John Ferrier built himself a substantial loghouse, which received so many additions in succeeding years that it grewinto a roomy villa. He was a man of a practical turn of mind, keen in hisdealings and skilful with his hands. His iron constitution enabled him towork morning and evening at improving and tilling his lands. Hence itcame about that his farm and all that belonged to him prosperedexceedingly. In three years he was better off than his neighbours, in six hewas well-to-do, in nine he was rich, and in twelve there were not half adozen men in the whole of Salt Lake City who could compare with him.From the great inland sea to the distant Wasatch Mountains there was noname better known than that of John Ferrier.There was one way and only one in which he offended thesusceptibilities of his co-religionists. No argument or persuasion couldever induce him to set up a female establishment after the manner of hiscompanions. He never gave reasons for this persistent refusal, butcontented himself by resolutely and inflexibly adhering to hisdetermination. There were some who accused him of lukewarmness in hisadopted religion, and others who put it down to greed of wealth andreluctance to incur expense. Others, again, spoke of some early loveaffair, and of a fair-haired girl who had pined away on the shores of theAtlantic. Whatever the reason, Ferrier remained strictly celibate. In everyother respect he conformed to the religion of the young settlement, andgained the name of being an orthodox and straight-walking man.Lucy Ferrier grew up within the log-house, and assisted her adoptedfather in all his undertakings. The keen air of the mountains and thebalsamic odour of the pine trees took the place of nurse and mother to theyoung girl. As year succeeded to year she grew taller and stronger, hercheek more ruddy and her step more elastic. Many a wayfarer upon thehigh road which ran by Ferrier's farm felt long-forgotten thoughts revivein his mind as he watched her lithe, girlish figure tripping through thewheatfields, or met her mounted upon her father's mustang, andmanaging it with all the ease and grace of a true child of the West. So thebud blossomed into a flower, and the year which saw her father therichest of the farmers left her as fair a specimen of American girlhood ascould be found in the whole Pacific slope.It was not the father, however, who first discovered that the child haddeveloped into the woman. It seldom is in such cases. That mysteriouschange is too subtle and too gradual to be measured by dates. Least of alldoes the maiden herself know it until the tone of a voice or the touch of ahand sets her heart thrilling within her, and she learns, with a mixture ofpride and of fear, that a new and a larger nature has awakened within her.There are few who cannot recall that day and remember the one littleincident which heralded the dawn of a new life. In the case of LucyFerrier the occasion was serious enough in itself, apart from its futureinfluence on her destiny and that of many besides.It was a warm June morning, and the Latter Day Saints were as busy asthe bees whose hive they have chosen for their emblem. In the fields and in the streets rose the same hum of human industry. Down the dusty highroads defiled long streams of heavily laden mules, all heading to the west,for the gold fever had [60] broken out in California, and the overland routelay through the city of the Elect. There, too, were droves of sheep andbullocks coming in from the outlying pasture lands, and trains of tiredimmigrants, men and horses equally weary of their interminable journey.Through all this motley assemblage, threading her way with the skill of anaccomplished rider, there galloped Lucy Ferrier, her fair face flushed withthe exercise and her long chestnut hair floating out behind her. She had acommission from her father in the city, and was dashing in as she haddone many a time before, with all the fearlessness of youth, thinking onlyof her task and how it was to be performed. The travel-stainedadventurers gazed after her in astonishment, and even the unemotionalIndians, journeying in with their peltries, relaxed their accustomedstoicism as they marvelled at the beauty of the pale-faced maiden.She had reached the outskirts of the city when she found the roadblocked by a great drove of cattle, driven by a half-dozen wild-lookingherdsmen from the plains. In her impatience she endeavoured to pass thisobstacle by pushing her horse into what appeared to be a gap. Scarcelyhad she got fairly into it, however, before the beasts closed in behind her,and she found herself completely embedded in the moving stream offierce-eyed, long-horned bullocks. Accustomed as she was to deal withcattle, she was not alarmed at her situation, but took advantage of everyopportunity to urge her horse on, in the hopes of pushing her way throughthe cavalcade. Unfortunately the horns of one of the creatures, either byaccident or design, came in violent contact with the flank of the mustang,and excited it to madness. In an instant it reared up upon its hind legs witha snort of rage, and pranced and tossed in a way that would have unseatedany but a skilful rider. The situation was full of peril. Every plunge of theexcited horse brought it against the horns again, and goaded it to freshmadness. It was all that the girl could do to keep herself in the saddle, yeta slip would mean a terrible death under the hoofs of the unwieldy andterrified animals. Unaccustomed to sudden emergencies, her head beganto swim, and her grip upon the bridle to relax. Choked by the rising cloudof dust and by the steam from the struggling creatures, she might haveabandoned her efforts in despair, but for a kindly voice at her elbowwhich assured her of assistance. At the same moment a sinewy brownhand caught the frightened horse by the curb, and forcing a way throughthe drove, soon brought her to the outskirts."You're not hurt, I hope, miss," said her preserver, respectfully.She looked up at his dark, fierce face, and laughed saucily. "I'm awfulfrightened," she said, naively; "whoever would have thought that Ponchowould have been so scared by a lot of cows?""Thank God, you kept your seat," the other said, earnestly. He was atall, savage-looking young fellow, mounted on a powerful roan horse, andclad in the rough dress of a hunter, with a long rifle slung over hisshoulders. "I guess you are the daughter of John Ferrier," he remarked; "Isaw you ride down from his house. When you see him, ask him if heremembers the Jefferson Hopes of St. Louis. If he's the same Ferrier, myfather and he were pretty thick.""Hadn't you better come and ask yourself?" she asked, demurely.The young fellow seemed pleased at the suggestion, and his dark eyessparkled with pleasure. "I'll do so," he said; "we've been in themountains for two months, and are not over and above in visitingcondition. He must take us as he finds us.""He has a good deal to thank you for, and so have I," she answered;"he's [61] awful fond of me. If those cows had jumped on me he'd havenever got over it.""Neither would I," said her companion."You! Well, I don't see that it would make much matter to you,anyhow. You ain't even a friend of ours."The young hunter's dark face grew so gloomy over this remark thatLucy Ferrier laughed aloud. "There, I didn't mean that," she said; "of course, you are a friend now.You must come and see us. Now I must push along, or father won't trustme with his business any more. Good-bye!""Good-bye," he answered, raising his broad sombrero, and bendingover her little hand. She wheeled her mustang round, gave it a cut withher riding-whip, and darted away down the broad road in a rolling cloudof dust.Young Jefferson Hope rode on with his companions, gloomy andtaciturn. He and they had been among the Nevada Mountains prospectingfor silver, and were returning to Salt Lake City in the hope of raisingcapital enough to work some lodes which they had discovered. He hadbeen as keen as any of them upon the business until this sudden incidenthad drawn his thoughts into another channel. The sight of the fair younggirl, as frank and wholesome as the Sierra breezes, had stirred hisvolcanic, untamed heart to its very depths. When she had vanished fromhis sight, he realized that a crisis had come in his life, and that neithersilver speculations nor any other questions could ever be of suchimportance to him as this new and all-absorbing one. The love which hadsprung up in his heart was not the sudden, changeable fancy of a boy, butrather the wild, fierce passion of a man of strong will and imperioustemper. He had been accustomed to succeed in all that he undertook. Heswore in his heart that he would not fail in this if human effort and humanperseverance could render him successful.He called on John Ferrier that night, and many times again, until hisface was a familiar one at the farmhouse. John, cooped up in the valley,and absorbed in his work, had had little chance of learning the news of theoutside world during the last twelve years. All this Jefferson Hope wasable to tell him, and in a style which interested Lucy as well as her father.He had been a pioneer in California, and could narrate many a strange taleof fortunes made and fortunes lost in those wild, halcyon days. He hadbeen a scout too, and a trapper, a silver explorer, and a ranchman.Wherever stirring adventures were to be had, Jefferson Hope had beenthere in search of them. He soon became a favourite with the old farmer,who spoke eloquently of his virtues. On such occasions, Lucy was silent,but her blushing cheek and her bright, happy eyes showed only too clearlythat her young heart was no longer her own. Her honest father may nothave observed these symptoms, but they were assuredly not thrown awayupon the man who had won her affections.One summer evening he came galloping down the road and pulled up atthe gate. She was at the doorway, and came down to meet him. He threwthe bridle over the fence and strode up the pathway."I am off, Lucy," he said, taking her two hands in his, and gazingtenderly down into her face: "I won't ask you to come with me now, butwill you be ready to come when I am here again?""And when will that be?" she asked, blushing and laughing."A couple of months at the outside. I will come and claim you then, mydarling. There's no one who can stand between us.""And how about father?" she asked.[62] "He has given his consent, provided we get these mines working all right. I have no fear on that head.""Oh, well; of course, if you and father have arranged it all, there's nomore to be said," she whispered, with her cheek against his broad breast."Thank God!" he said, hoarsely, stooping and kissing her. "It is settled,then. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to go. They are waiting forme at the canon. Good-bye, my own darling-good-bye. In two monthsyou shall see me."He tore himself from her as he spoke, and, flinging himself upon hishorse, galloped furiously away, never even looking round, as thoughafraid that his resolution might fail him if he took one glance at what hewas leaving. She stood at the gate, gazing after him until he vanishedfrom her sight. Then she walked back into the house, the happiest girl inall Utah.