The Land of Lure: A Story of the Columbia River Basin

by Elliott Smith

Travis Gully having acquired the habit of early rising during his sojourn among the harvesters, was awake the following morning before the rest of the family was astir. He lay for a short time drowsing and enjoying the unaccustomed rest, but being unable to content himself, arose, and after dressing stepped outside in the crisp morning air. Daylight was just appearing over the brow of the hills to the east, a narrow thread of silver light with a faint tinge of rosy dawn. The deep shades of night, disappearing behind the peaks of the Cascade mountains to the west, cast their purple hues over the snow covered expanse at their summit, faded away and were lost amid the gloomy blackness of the heavily timbered gorges that cut deeply down their sides to the Columbia river.

Lighting his pipe, Gully strolled out near the cistern, where, seated upon an upturned barrel, he breathed with exhilerating delight the morning air and tried, in fancy, to picture to himself what the reclamation of the thousands of acres that lay before him would mean. He could see miles of just such grain as he had been helping to harvest, and long avenues of fruit trees, extending across the clearing he had made the spring before; trees like those he had seen growing in the orchards at Wenatchee, where he had made his first stop. The little strip of land that lay between his present humble home and the dusty road, then no longer dusty, but a glistening well kept highway extending away in the distance until lost to view by its ever decreasing narrowness; this little strip of land would be a waving mass of luxuriant alfalfa through which would wander his cows, horses and pigs.

His flights of imagination suggested to his mind a number of comfortable cottages in close proximity to his own then pretentious home, in which were domiciled each of his children. They should have homes of their own.

Travis Gully sat dreaming his delightful dreams of the future, when he was suddenly brought back to a realization of his surroundings by a hot breath, immediately followed by a cold, damp muzzle being thrust against his hand. Starting suddenly at this rude awakening, he frightened away the faithful old dog who, having discovered his presence, had approached to make his acquaintance. Appreciating the situation at a glance, Gully spoke kindly to the dog, calling him back; he patted him on the head and laughed good naturedly at his shaggy, woe begone appearance, and promised him better times for the future than he had evidently been accustomed to in the past.

It was now day, and the smoke was coming from the stoves within the homes of some of his neighbors. Upon noting this fact, he went inside the house, and after kindling a fire in his own kitchen stove, called to his wife, who having been awakened by his movements, immediately came out and joined him in the kitchen door, where they together watched the rising sun shed its splendor over the scene.

The delight of having their father with them once more clung to the family throughout the day. His every movement was followed by the joyous band of happy children. They led him to the point where the surveyors had set their instruments on their land and showed him the little stakes upon which the plumb bob had been centered, and which they had carefully preserved, telling him it was there the water was to flow. They told him of the many little kindnesses bestowed upon them by these good men who were to provide them with the much needed water, of how they had carried their letters to and from the distant post office, and had distributed pennies among the smaller children.

Thus the constant chatter flowed, each little incident doing its part to reconstruct the tower of hope that was being built, and in which Travis Gully and his family were to fortify themselves during the coming long winter months. The remaining few days of pretty weather could not be wasted in idleness. The trip to the distant town for supplies must be made; the cistern must be refilled, and more ground gotten ready for seeding before the frost came. All this Gully realized, and with hopes and aspirations at their highest point, he was eager to begin activities.

The horses that had been astray for several days returned for water and were taken up and held in readiness for daily use. The second day after Gully's return being Friday, it was decided by he and his wife that the trip to the town should be made first, as the supplies were running short. They were to go the following morning, and as it was to be a gala day the whole family was going.

At this announcement the children danced with glee, as they had not been further from home than the well since they came the March before, and little realizing how tiresome the long trip across the desert would be, they anxiously awaited the arrival of the time to start. Everything was gotten ready that evening in preparation for the trip, Gully knowing that the going and coming over the long sandy roads would consume most of the day. It would require an early start to allow time for their trading.

Sunrise the following morning found them well on their road to the town, which could be seen in the distance, although many miles away, and as the morning hours passed the enthusiasm of the children gradually exhausted itself, and the last few miles of the trip were made in almost complete silence, broken only by the monotonous squeaking of the harness and rattle of the wagon, the box of which was a home made affair, almost completely wrecked by the strain of being overloaded with barrels of water, but which had been wired together with bale wire in order that the boards extending from side to side would sustain the weight of those seated upon them.