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

by Elliott Smith

As the summer approached and the unusual showers became less frequent, the fitful gusts of wind started the restless sand, but too late to harm the grain that was now beginning to assume the golden tint that foretold an early harvest. The garden was beginning to wilt beneath the hot sunrays, but the ingenuity of Gully saved it. At the root of the melon vines and other plants empty cans were imbedded into which the waste water was poured and allowed to filter slow through, and by this method sufficient moisture was given the plants to mature them, and the yield was abundant.

The favorable season in the desert region had renewed the hopes of those who had chosen to make it their home, and scenes of unusual activity were apparent at every hand. New tracts of land were being cleared and plowed, and new buildings sprang up overnight; their glistening bare walls could be seen in many directions.

The services of a Miss Anderson as teacher for the little school had been secured, and though the season was late for starting, it was opened, and each school morning, early, the Gully children went joyfully across the sagebrush plain to the little school building, where they were joined by some half dozen other children who came from as many different directions.

The glint of the sunrays on their brightly shining dinner pails flashed heliographic warning of their approach long before the small pupils could be seen. The Sunday School was reorganized and the meetings of the literary society resumed. The hardships of the past winter were almost forgotten and were seldom referred to.

The middle of the month of June brought the harvest season. The grain in the desert maturing and ripening several weeks in advance of that in the grain belt to the north, thus affording the homesteader an opportunity to harvest their grain at home before leaving for the grain fields for their regular season's run.

Gully, whose harvest at home had yielded exceptional returns for which he found a ready market among his neighbors, was undecided as to whether to make another trip into the Big Bend country or remain at home and improve his place. But the desire to have a well, with abundance of water, which would give him an opportunity to irrigate and develop his home, soon caused him to decide to go. He had not forgotten his experience of the fall before, and his firm resolve never to leave his family alone in the desert again, but conditions had changed since them. They were better provided for, and there were neighbors, many of whom would have to leave for the winter, but still there were among them many who would leave their families behind. Besides he had bought another team and what they could earn, together with his earnings, would enable him to secure the coveted well, and he would not have to leave again.

As for the work, he was better equipped now and would know what to expect and consequently make the best of it. Thus he reasoned, and after fully determining to go, he wrote to the grower for whom he had worked the previous fall and arranged for work during the coming season.

The summer now being on, the heat of the sun was terrific, and no effort was made to accomplish anything during the day. When trips to the village became necessary the start was made early, and the home coming frequently postponed until after sundown, to avoid as much as possible the midday drive over the hot dusty roads. Rains were a thing of the past now, and the desert began to assume its accustomed dry, parched appearance. Many of the newcomers who had moved in during the early spring, when conditions were most favorable, were now becoming alarmed, and questioned the wisdom of their choice, and had it not been for the positive evidence of the possibilities of the district as seen at the Gully place, many of them would have become discouraged and given up in despair.

To many of these unfortunates the village was the only source of comfort. They would congregate there during the day and discuss the various subjects pertaining to home building in the wilderness. Many of them had had no experience at farming even under the most favorable conditions, and these presented a most pitiful appearance and woebegone manner. Fresh from within the confines of shop or office and launched upon a life of hardships and exposure, upon a sea of blistering sands, sizzling sagebrush and bunch grass, it was no wonder they blistered, peeled, freckled and tanned and seemed to shrivel and slouch when they had lain aside their neat fitting business suit and donned their overalls. It was a cruel test of stamina and manhood, and a surprising few that withstood it.

Many of the earlier settlers adhered to the belief that help would come to them through irrigation, and the fact of the surveyors having been in the field the summer before was related to the new settlers with convincing arguments that it had to come. Still no one had ever heard the slightest intimation of what the surveyors had accomplished in the way of favorable results or the nature of their official report.