The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1881-02-18

And SO she had been pushing on from place
to place, through hardship and danger, by
the great trail across the plains, until
now she could see, on clear day the out
must pass over on his way eastward. She
had supported herself by cooking and washing
for the freighters, and caring for the sick who
fell in her way, and at length had contrived,
after years Of scrimpin' an dickerin', !" as
she described it, to secure this isolated ranch,
including soda biscuits and the accOmpani-
ment Of real table-cloth. And here she
waited, watchful and patient, for the truant
husband. "He's sure to come" she would
say, "and 1 can't miss him; 'twouldn't
surprise me to have him drop in any day." She
scanned the faces of the alighting passengers
from the stage every evening with habitual
eagerness, and yet trife timidly, Is If doubt
full about the kind of reception he would give
her; indeed she said once: " dunno but it'll
rile i'm to meet up with me SO student away
out here, an him :hinkin' Pm in Mis-
souri,; may be hadn't Orter "a come" Every
day some special dish was cooked as he had
been wont to prefer it; the best bed, in a
room by itself, was kept always vacant for
him; regularly each afternoon, she would un-
loose her abundant hair and gather il into a
long, thick braid, after the obsolete fashion
of her girlhood, and tie 1t with q scrap of rib
bon-because Aaron liked it better that
way"
The fact that she had received but one letter
from him in all the long years did not seem so
unaccountable after she informed us that,
owing to the early neglect, he was " onhandy
with pen," and generally had his writing done
by proxy. In strict truth he probably could
not write word. " But he knows fig
gers jest as nat'ral as kin be-" she fastened
or hog at he couldn't guess the heft of
nigh onto a few pound; an nobody
could ever beat lin a-cipherin' out
corn in the crib" She refused, also, to
confess a moments uneasiness as to his per-
sOnal safety; both his absence and his silence
of hisself anywheres," she declared, with evil
dent pride, "an' if he's done got hurt or made
way. with, I'd have some warnin' of it, in a
dream or sOmethin'. But l amt had's much
as a sign in the coffee groun's to make me
afeard. OF course he'll come back. What in
the world would he stay away fora"
1t was idle to dispute such trust, even silent
". Not only that, it was impossible to avoid
sharing it, and soon it became as much our
habit as it was hers, to look from day to day
for the coming of the absent husband. So
infinitely did she talk of him that we believed
we should recognize him at sight; in fact, We
felt so sure of this, and expectation came to
be SO fdgety with us, that often, when the
weather was fair we would stroll out for miles
earlier glance at the occupants, hoping thus
to spy Aaron, and gallop back to Aunt 'Cinda
with the good news OF his approach. Such was
our thought, our talk, as We cantered leisure
ly along the trail one quiet evening, and,
rounding curve, came meeting single
creaking piteOusly. Inside the vehicle lay a
man, with pallid face and long, Struggling
whiskers, who raised himself on his elbow to
salute us, and then sank down again with an
expression of pain; near his side slept baby !;
the wife and mother sat in front, on fitting
seat, guiding "the critters" with well-worn
Mexican gOad. 1t was novel sight, and pro-
voked at once both curiosity and sympathy.
We forgot about the stage, we forgot about
Aaron; and when the baby awoke presently,
and put its tiny fists to its cheeks and gaZed at
us in shy, debating wOnder-as il trying to
identify us with something seen in its just
vanished dream-we almost ceased to realize
the great, far-stretching and empty periphery
of desert, child was such godsend there.
eyes, said the woman, as we wheeled
about and rode beside the wagon, with our
ponies refined in to suit the slow gait of the
oxen, "Yes, think she's a toler'le nice baby,
myself. We call her Cutie, but her names Adj
cline, same's mine. He named her''-indcat-
ing the pale and silent father, whose thin
Has your husband been sick long!"
More'n month";" the man answered.
"But Pm pickin' up now. l amt nigh so
porely as was back in the valley. II | could
only get shet o. these rheumatic I'd be all
right: It's the rheumatic more'n anything
"It's the mount'n fever,' remarked the
woman, in kindly whisper; and then, speak
ing aloud and cheerily, s. Yes. he's doin' splen-
did now," she continued, an don't need
nothin' but to keep quiet, less it mought be
wild cherry bitters, if We had 'em. Wy, two
weeks ago he was jest plain skin and bones.
His own mother wouldn't "a knowed him."
81 seed my shadder on the grass one day"
the man called out, with grim chuckle, ian
it skeert me-"
He did not speak again, except in an under
tone to the restless child, during the hour or
more that we plodded along together; but the
woman was talkative. and we CLEANED from
her, by easy degrees, that they had been living
in New Mexico, and were now on their way
back g. to Gods country" east of the plains,
" everlastin'ly put out" as she expressed it,
GO with the greasers an their lazy, tri6in',
good-for-nOthin' ways" She had lost one
husband there, ''shot by the sneakin' Apaches, ~
and married another, an0 there Cutie had
been born; and they MIXED goats there and
tied pigs to stakes; had no society and no rain
and so on and so on. ats jest too ornery to
talk about" she exclaimed, and then went on
talking about it faster than ever, and only our
arrival at the ranch cut short her fluent and
sneerin g disclosures.
At sight of us, Aunt 'Cinda came hurryine
forward. "For PHYS sake!" she said, and
waited to be told what it all meant. We re.
peated briefly what facts We had gathered
concerning the travellers, not emitting the
baby, and laying some stress on the mans ILL
ness.
"a sick mans" answered Aunt 'Cinda.
Fetch him right In. An the baby. too, an
the woman-an of 'em," she insisted, and
turned to lead the way, murmuring to her
self, in a pleased manner, "GOOdness gra-
ciOus, babyw
The sick man rose with q sudden effort, and
sat upright The dusk had thickened and the
stars were coming out, and the path to the
door Of the cabin, along which he cast q
yearning look, was beginning to lose itself in
the prOximate and dusty sage-brush. 81 guess
I'd better stay in the wagon" he observed ;
"ihe'n be too many of u.s." And then, glanc-
ing skyward, Its a-goin' to be q purity
night" he added, and dropped back upon his
pallet.
Aunt 'Cinda hesitated, listened, faced about,
and slowly returned. The mother had just
climbed down from her uncertain seat, and
was holding the baby in her arms while she
clumsily adjusted her skirts. With solicit
ing gesture, but without speaking, Aunt Gin
da took the child, and, stepping aside, turned
its little surprised face to the stars and gazed
upon it fixedlv-wishing it were hers, we i'm
agined. "You cunnin' little darlin'," she
said, directly, and handed it back in the same
peculiar, impulsive manner. Then she moved