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

by Elliott Smith

When they reached the town, which consisted of a few residences, a railroad station and some half dozen stores, Gully drove to a vacant lot a short distance from the main street, where a number of wagons were already standing, with horses contentedly eating hay while their owners were transacting their business.

After assisting his wife and children to alight he unhitched his team, and then making them fast to the wheels, that they might eat, returned to where his family had assembled and assisted them to brush from their clothing the accumulation of sand and volcanic ash that had transformed them into gray figures that blended with the buildings, fences and sagebrush with which they were surrounded, all gray, the eternal gray of the desert.

Had those of their friends who had known Travis Gully and his family in their old home met them in their present condition, it is doubtful if the most intimate among them would have been able to recognize them. The changes that had taken place were in some respects advantageous. Minnie Gully was no longer the tired, care worn mother of the year before. She had thrown off that spirit of lassitude that marks so unmistakably the drudge, the farmer's wife. That she had health was evidenced by the tinge of color that shone through the coat of tan produced by the desert wind and sun, and also by her buoyant step and actions. The children had grown hardy and rugged by their unrestrained freedom in the wilderness, and while showing a disposition to be more timid, were as yet unspoiled by their isolation.

It was in Travis Gully that the change was most noticeable. He was no longer the disinterested slave, the irresponsible renter with no higher ambition than to grow an abundant crop for his landlord, that he might be allowed to remain on the premises another year and thereby avoid the exertion of a forced move. His summer spent in the harvest field had netted him other than financial returns. It had developed in him a firmer resolve to own a home of his own, and hardened his muscles for the fray. His bearing was more independent, and the fire of a newborn ambition shone in his eyes.

He was now the aggressor, and had dropped the role of a passive follower. It was his first awakening, and never having been compelled to feel the sting of defeat, was as yet undaunted. Thus it may be seen that while the first year's planting on the homestead was a failure the venture, as a whole, had its element of success.

The next few hours of their stay in the village was devoted to shopping, and were filled with many incidents both amusing and trying. The constant care of the children as they tugged at their mother's skirts, calling her attention to various articles that caught their wondering eyes, the trying on of shoes and selection of ginghams and calicoes, with one ever present thought, that the purchases must be confined to a certain amount, made the task a tiresome and nerve racking one. At last it was finished, and when Travis Gully, who had gone for his team, drove up to the store and loaded on his purchases, it was a tired and hungry family that climbed into the wagon and took their places among the many bundles and boxes with which it was piled and turned their faces homeward, to drive back over the same dusty road; to listen for hours to the rattle of the particles of sand as they were lifted high by the revolving wheels and then allowed to drop upon the paper wrapped bundles with which the bottom of the wagon was strewn; to listen to the continuous crackling of the dry sagebrush as the wheels passed over it, pressing it deep into the yielding sand, and which sprang back into position after the vehicle had passed and awaited, with a patience born of years of solitude upon the desert, for the next onslaught, continuing this torture until ground to powder and mixed with the sand that had lashed it for years. Take, if you will, a pinch of sand from the sage covered desert, and seek out from its many particles the tiny atoms of sagebrush and examine them. They are all the same misshapen, dwarfed and gray.

It was far into the night before the Gully's reached their home and were greeted by the faithful old dog who had remained behind, but little notice was taken of his demonstration of welcome, so after he had assured himself that all were present, and had tugged at the blanket in which little Joe was brought, sleeping soundly, into the house, he retired to his place under the kitchen table. Gully lost no time, after caring for his horses and seeing that his purchases were safe for the night, in going to his rest, conscious of the fact that an eventful day in his life had passed.

It now being late in November, Gully knew that but a short time could be expected before the first winter snow would come, and he had learned that it sometimes came in such quantities as to drift in the roads and make it very difficult to travel, and not caring to be caught unprepared in such an event, left the following Monday in search of a place where feed for his horses might be purchased. Accompanied by one of his neighbors, he went back into the hills, and there they purchased a sufficient amount to do them both. The roads being very sandy and the distance great, it required several days with both their teams to haul the hay to their claims. After this was accomplished and the winter's supply of wood procured, the rest of the time before the snow fell was devoted to clearing land in preparation for plowing the following spring.

At last, upon awakening one morning Travis Gully found that the long looked for snow had arrived, several inches having fallen during the night, and it was still snowing quite hard. He looked out across the level plain, and thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight. Not a breath of air was stirring, and the huge flakes were coming down in myriads, falling on the high tufts of bunch grass and remaining where they had fallen. The unsightly sagebrush was transformed into every conceivable shape, and its stubby, unyielding branches bedecked with soft, fleecy snow that completely hid their identity and brought their grotesque forms out in cameo like relief. The changed color and altered conditions from its former sameness gave the landscape a weird, ghastly appearance.

Gully stood fascinated by the dazzling whiteness, and wondered in a vague, uncertain way why, if such a change was possible in so short a time by a simple variation in climatic conditions, would it not be possible to make the change permanent and productive of some good. Why not change from the torturing dull gray to green and then a golden hue, to be followed by the spotless mantle of white? Was it within the power of man, with his advanced ideas and modern methods, to bring about such a transformation? If so, would the change be permanent? That they had in some instances, and over small areas, accomplished this feat it was true, but it was noticeable in every instance of this kind new complications had arisen to test their ingenuity, new difficulties were constantly arising for mankind to combat.