The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1881-04-20
AUNT 'CINDA'S RANCH.
[Seribner's Monthly.l

lScribner's Monthly.
There was plenty of game in the neigh
borhOod of Aunt 'Cinda's Ranch, as we
have been told; but our informant had neg
lected to state that it was also one of the
dreariest places on earth. Far as the eye
could reach in every direction lay only
prairie, prairie, prairie-treeless and fiat,
with short, trivial grass, and over the face
of it all, that indescribable, tawny blur, pc
culiar to the outlying Kansas plains. The
little level river in front of the ranch had
no banks, and flowed sluggishlyi the ranch
itself was four-roomed cabin ofmelanchOly
adobe, thanked by a stone corral, in which
were awkward racks and troughs for horses.
The interest and excitement of our chases
after antelopes, jack-rabbits, and occasion
ally wandering buffalo, seved to kill time
for us during the day, but when evening
came, and we returned to the ranch, tired
out and thinking of home, the sense of exile
became almost painful. The fact the ranch
was stage station, where q brief halt was
made for supper, alone redeemed it from
utter desOlation, for this gave US our sole
glimpses of the distant world, in
the faces and conversation of the passengers
with now and then a stray newspaper. We
used to stand watching the slow and gor-
geous sunset with pretty pretense of admi-
ration, when, in reality, our thoughts were
bent upon catching sight of the first curl OF
dust that should denote the approaching
stage. The passengers were not always
either attractive or communicative, but all
the same we hailed them warmly; aud when
they left the horizon seemed swiftly 10
widen, and the stars to creepfurther upward
in the high, inhospltable sky.
1t was at such empty times that we turned
forlOrnly to our associates of the ranch-tO
the landlady, Aunt 'Cinda Mcmillan, and
the swarthY Mexican and his wife, who
were in her service. The resource was an
improbable one at first; but gradually we
found Aunt 'Cinda to be character worth
knowing, and YOU may be sure we left nc
artifce untried to win from her all she had
to tell. She was robust, strong featured and
about forty-fve years old; there were streakl
of gray in her heavy black hair, few
wrinkles in her cheeks; her eyes had an alert
and seeking look, such as you see in the
eyes of persons who live much alone. Some
times, when she grew animated, and a fleet
ing smile came to her aid, We could believe
that in her girlish days she had lacked but
little-say merely change Of mouth-tC
make her pretty. But it was her story, and
net herself, that mainly held our attention
and encouraged our inquiries; indeed, she
usually appeared, when recounting the
strange incidents of her history to be talk
ing of some one else, 50 free from vanity
was she, and so candid.
She had been reared, we learned, in the
Boone's Lick country, in Missouri, and there
mad Aaron Mcmillan known and wooed her
The memory of her courtship was very
vivid to her, and she dwelt upon it with
lingering fondness Aaron wasn't the
purtiest man in the world, by long odds,
she would say; "he was light completed
and had sandy beard, and freckles; but h'
was Jest as good as ever they make 'em.
disremember how twas that he first begun
keepin' company with me. Their was like
lier gals than me in the settlement; Lucy
Walker, for one, that sung alto and played
onto the melodeon; and Samanthy Pettis
that had money in her own right, an secl
little taperin feet, an she liked to show 'em
too. But Aaron an me, we both tux q shin
t each other, an he didn't pears if he keeret
q button for any O. the balance of 'em
'Cindy,' he used to say, some gals is purt,
an high-steppin', an some is handy abou
balIin' an weavin' an sech, an some is pear
in Parnin'; but it's the average as counts
'Cindy.' I'll never forgit that, not if liv
q thousan' years. Its the average a
counts; can almost hear him sayin' tina
now. He used to- come to see me ever,
other Sunday, rain or shine, an when ther
was a moon, he'd take me TO meetin', over l.
the Chapel, four mile away. The Camp
bellites an Methods used to have unioi
meetin's there, an revivals, an, shoutin
Aaron's folks was Complexities, an he lean
that way, and mine was Baptist. But W
didn't never argy about religion. Bles
you, no."
Then she would detail to us. bit by BIZ
the current of their closer talks together, q
they rode homeward from Church, or sd
upon the porch behind the mcrning-gloriei
1t could hardly be called love-making, Aun
'Cinda herself termed it "sparkin'," and eve
that sounded too hectic for an intercours
that had in it apparently so little of passio
so small q chance of heart-break. Blu
perhaps beneath that calm susface, beyon
grasp of expression, had throbbed
wealth of reverent and tender preference
that was worth everything else i
ife-these simple, undemonstrative ma
lures so frequently shame the best of love
examples with their unguessed and quie
power Certainly this humble woman, n
longer young, and living over again tina
far-og dream, still kept her faith and mad
a royal comfort of it. And yet, so far as W
could ascertain, her matter-of-fact Aaroi
had but once in all their courtship venture
TO kiss her. "Pll never forget it, not to m
dyin' day." she said. at was of Sunda
night, the last Sunday in September, out b
the gate, as he was goin' away q We'd bee
tslkin Of things as Turin as could be
sparkin,' an all of sudden, likes If he
been possessed, he put his face close up
inine,-and declare to gracious, couldn
"a been more surprised if he'd "a hit M
Land sakes, AaronP screamed. An th
next minute snickered right out. 1 couldn
help it for seein' how fustered he was, al
kind of Undecided. / vow, 1 b'lieve
thought he'd miffed me. But he hsdn'
Lordy, Lordy' it comes back to me jest ik
twas only Yesterday"
Then she dropped her head and her sr