The Girl of the Golden West

Girl of the Golden West, The

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Title: The Girl of the Golden West
Author: David Belasco

Release Date: August 19, 2005 [eBook #16551]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL
OF THE GOLDEN WEST***
E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.

THE GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
by

DAVID BELASCO
1911

"In those strange days, people coming from God knows where, joined
forces in that far Western land, and, according to the rude custom of the
camp, their very names were soon lost and unrecorded, and here they
struggled, laughed, gambled, cursed, killed, loved and worked out their
strange destinies in a manner incredible to us of to-day. Of one thing
only are we sure--they lived!"
Early History of California

I.
It was when coming back to the mines, after a trip to Monterey, that the
Girl first met him. It happened, too, just at a time when her mind was
ripe to receive a lasting impression. But of all this the boys of Cloudy
Mountain Camp heard not a word, needless to say, until long
afterwards.
Lolling back on the rear seat of the stage, her eyes half closed,--the sole
passenger now, and with the seat in front piled high with boxes and
baskets containing rebozos, silken souvenirs, and other finery
purchased in the shops of the old town,--the Girl was mentally
reviewing and dreaming of the delights of her week's visit there,--a visit
that had been a revelation to one whose sole experience of the world
had until now been derived from life in a rough mining camp. Before
her half-closed eyes still shimmered a vista of strange, exotic scenes
and people, the thronging crowds of carnivals and fêtes; the Mexican
girls swaying through the movements of the fandango to the music of
guitars and castanets; the great rodeo with its hundreds of vaqueros,
which was held at one of the ranchos just outside the town; and, lastly,
and most vividly of all, the never-to-be-forgotten thrill of her first
bull-fight.

Still ringing in her ears was the piercing note of the bugle which
instantly silenced the expectant throng; the hoarse roar that greeted the
entrance of the bull, and the thunder of his hoofs when he made his first
mad charge. She saw again, with marvellous fidelity, the whole
colour-scheme just before the death of the big, brave beast: the huge
arena in its unrivalled setting of mountain, sea and sky; the eager
multitude, tense with expectancy; the silver-mounted bridles and
trappings of the horses; the many-hued capes of the _capadors_; the
gaily-dressed banderilleros, poising their beribboned barbs; the red flag
and long, slender, flashing sword of the cool and ever watchful
_matador_; and, most prominent of all to her eyes, the brilliant,
gold-laced packets of the gentlemen-picadors, who, after the Mexican
fashion,--so she had been told,--deemed it in nowise beneath them to
enter the arena in person.
And so it happened that now, as the stage swung round a corner, and a
horseman suddenly appeared at a point where two roads converged, and
was evidently spurring his horse with the intent of coming up with the
stage, it was only natural that, even before he was near enough to be
identified, the caballero should already have become a part of the
pageant of her mental picture.
Up to the moment of the stranger's appearance, nothing had happened
to break the monotony of her long return journey towards Cloudy
Mountain Camp. Far back in the distance now lay the Mission where
the passengers of the stage had been hospitably entertained the night
before; still further back the red-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls of
the little pueblo of San Jose,--a veritable bower of roses; and remotest
of all, the crosses of San Carlos and the great pines, oaks and cypresses,
which bordered her dream-memory of the white-beach crescent formed
by the waves of Monterey Bay.
The dawn of each day that swept her further from her week in
wonderland had ushered in the matchless spring weather of
California,--the brilliant sunshine, the fleecy clouds, the gentle wind
with just a tang in it from the distant mountains; and as the stage rolled
slowly northward through beautiful valleys, bright with yellow poppies

and silver-white lupines, every turn of the road varied her view of the
hills lying under an enchantment unlike that of any other land. Yet
strange and full of interest as every