Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1884-02-22
an was all fer takin' up homestead
land in Kansas or Nebraska. !;

1850 FA~SS UOGoOu1OA " o. oA0 ~ 1lO LO0kV |
see to things like she nee had, an I
think she got older that twenty-fourth
OF May than in any ten years of her life.
The drawn, panied look never quite left
her face; there was an everlastin' CULVER
bout her lips, an the pink flush never
came back to her cheeks. 1t didn't
take long fer the silver to come into hor
hair. .u
''We never heerd a word o. Cicelv |
an David, an never mentioned 'em,
no more'n if they'd never been born
which l wish they hadn't.
81 was years younger'n Mahaly, but
as I'd been with her in her worst
trouble, it seemed to kind o. bind me
to her; an my father an mother had
knowed her folks all their days, she
used TO say that we seemed like her
own kin. So when father talked bout
movin' West, Mahaly said she wanted
to go, too. She said she longed to go
away--the further the better.
$50 she sold off her place an things,
'ceptin' what she made free gifts of to
some of the hands that'd lived for years
with her. She'd no kin nearer an for
ty-second cousins, anyhow.
ga blazin' June day found us out on
the Kansas plains. Father'u got the
Colorado fever by this time, an was
goin' on there. Hundreds O people
forlorn plains were dotted with long
trains O. white covered wagons. That
June day bout tuckered us all out.
The skies were like brass. There
wasn't a breath O. wind. The gray
dust lay thick on the few parchedileaves
of grass by the roadside, 1t was terri
BILE! just fore sun down we camped
near a little stream we had been Glad to
find.
"Our hired man lad taken the fag-
ged-out horses off a little piece to picket
'em in a place where there seemed to be
a little more grass than there was by
u wagon.
"There was an old, covered, shackel-
fled, clap-trap of q wagon with abroken
wheel, ear this little patch o. green
grass, an q sick lookin', half-starved
old mule tied with a piece of rope to a
wheel of the wagon. A bony cow was
picketed on the grass.
."\Nhen Sam, our man; came back, he
said:
"'I reckon them folks over there's
got 'nough O. the West. I'm thinkin'
the next homestead they take up III be
up there;' an he pointed his hand to
the sky. They say they come out here
in Aprile, an hain't seen a well day
since. You know it rained the hull O.
Aprile, an q cold rain at that. They're
in a mighty hard row O. stumps, I take
it. Poor devils! The woman's down
sick, in the purity nigh empty old
wagon, on an old straw tick. She's
got chills an fever; an the mans half
dead, but tryin' to crawl round an fry
a bit O. bacon. l think it s ev'ry bite
they've got to eat. No wonder the poor
cuss says that he's had.nothin' but hard
luck for a year back. The wust of it,
they've got a baby, too'
"All the time Sam was talkin', moth
or was packin' a basket O. %vittles; for
we had a plenty, aud good. too. Ma
haly and me took the basket, an went
over to the old wagon. We heerd the
feeble cry of a sickly baby fore we
reached the wagon. Poor little thing.
That was the last cry it made fore its
little sickly life went out.
"'Poor child! Poor little thing!'
Mahaly said, an stepped on faster.
"The front curtain o. the wagon was
open. l elm up on the tongue an
looked in. No mortal human can
know how I felt, when I saw David
Bascom on his knees in the bottom O.
that wagon, tryin' to give Cicely a sip
O. black coffee out Of an old tin cup!
"Mahaly was climbin' up on the
other side O. me. Ipushed her back.
"'Mahaly Doolitt!e!' l cried, for the
Lords sake, come away! come away!
Don't look into that wagon; don't,
don't!'
81 tried to hold her, but she broke
away from me with a frightened look
in her eyes. In another minnit she saw
all l had seen.
81 run back to our wagon, and told
my news. In a little while mother an
me went over to David's wagon. He
was not there, but Mahaly, was sitting
with poor Cicely's white face on her
breast. Their arms were round each
other, an Mahaly's cheek was pressed
close to Cicely's. The little baby girl
had gone to the One that gathers the
young lambs in His bosom.
sI'd said a thousand times that I
never, merer would forgive Ciccly Doo-
little under any circumstances. Poor
child! My hull heart wasfull O pity an
forgiveness when I saw her there in
Mahaly's arms, with the life nearly
gone from her sickly, sut1" rim body.
She was SO poor an pale an pitiful
lookin'. Not a bit O. the beautiful girl
ish bloom left, an the child-like beauty
all gone from the Young face. But the
old pleadin' look was in the blue eyes,
an the purity hair had lost none O its
beauty. She put out her hand to me as
| knelt beside her, but drew it away to
stroke Mahaly's bowed head.
"Purty soon David came into the
wagon, the w~retchedest lookin' mortal,
/ reckon, that ever suffered penance fer
his sins. His wife's hands grasped his;
she tried to speak, but could not; an
so, with her eyes rovin' from Mahaly to
David, Cicely died.
"When mornin' come, David Bascom
had gone an from that day to this [
never heerd tell O. him. Him / never
did forgive.
1--WE buried Cicely an the baby close
TO the runnin' stream, under the only
tree fer miles round. Next day we