The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1884-10-30
JIM'S WIFE.

/ never saw his face, nor hers. But
sometimes saw his hands, long and
thin and white, with that pallor pccul-
lar to plants grown in the dark and
human beings shut out from light and
air.
IL was midsummer, and the broad
street, that ran down into the open
plaza around which Comanehe is built,
was white with dust, and already re-
nccted back the hot glow of a scorchng
sun, although it was yet early when [
drew back the curtain that draped my
little window and look out, on the
morning after my arrival The heavy
shadows of an immense live-oak cooled
all the front of the low, ilregularly-
built log house, into which l had come
as summer guest, but the big, square
county Jail, nearly opposite, stood naked
and bare to the light, absorbing the
heat into its solid white stone walls and
casting it ont again in quivering rays
that thrilled all the breathless air.
Everything was so still just ut that
moment; she herself was so motiOnless
standing in the middle of the street
with the child lifted in her arms his
little bare legs showing white against
her rusty black dress and his head al
most hidden beneath the faded yellow
sunbonnet that covered her face; the
sky was OF SO deep and strange blue
and the shadow of the single scraggy
mesquite beyond her lay 50 sharp and
black upon the dazzling sand, that l
had n curious sensation as if l were
looking into picture. But only for q
moment A gathering group Of horse
men, booted and spurred, rode past;
she moved step or two out of their
way, stopped and placed the child upon
~ orr Al aA
her face again toward the dark, narrow
upper windows of the Jail. And l, too,
looking up, saw for the first time those
long, pallid hands folded about the rus
~ iron bars
I dropped the curtain and turned-to
lbe smothered in morning kisses, as the
children, glowing, rosy, bright, came
froOping in from their early breakfast.
Toward noon of the same day |
stepped out upon the vine-hung gallery.
A glad, lifc-giving wind was blowing
down from the great, purple, flat
topped mountains just over beyond the
bright sweep of open prairie set about
the little town, and the mesquite groves
up on the hillside were tossing their
feathery branches in il joyOusly. The
wonderful lapis-lazuli blue sky was
lflecked with white masses of slow-mov-
ing clouds; one of these laid half the
village square in shade, i'm the midst of
which / could see the town well. with
its broad stone curbing, and the knot of
men and boys grouped about il, their
hats off and foreheads barred to the
wind. A cowboy in picturesque cos
tune came riding across the sun-lit half
of the plaza. and his gay laugh floated
on to me as he answered mellow hal
loo from far off in the distance. II was
pretty scene, and stood reaching for
the flower that swung above my head,
and letting my gaze wander in delight
from purple mountains to golden val
ley and back again until it fell suddenly
upon n black spot in the street close by,
and l realized with a shock that she
was still there. The child lay mt her
feet apparently asleep, a little white
heap in the dust; the hands had disap-
peared from tho wiudow-bars above,
but just where l had seen her first she
stood, straight, slender, silent, motion
less The flower fell from my hand
and the heart seemed all at once to go
out of me.
She was always there When 1 lifted
my curtain in the wan gray of early
morning, l found her there, or | saw
her trudging down the sandy road, with
the child in her arms, toward her drearv
post
Day after day the pitilcss August sun
beat down upon her as she kept her sta
tion before that gloomy facade. Some
times, but not often, she sat down
prone in the dust, but always in the
same spOt-the spot whence she best
could see those clinging hands. Peo-
pie went up and down the street; the
tide of labor flowed back and forth;
Snen rode in to the various courts and
rode out again; wagons creaked by.
covered with white canvas, from be-
meath which the curious eyes of sallow
women and shock-headed children
peered down at her. But none of these
theings seemed TO enter into her con-
seriousness; she looked neither to right
nor left, and the weeks wearing away
found her with face still turned upward
10 the long, narrow window, pasient,
quiet, fixed, the child always beside
her, mute and mOtionless as herself.
Sometimes n second pair of hands
grasped the bars. That Tim Young
er BROTHER they told me- Its nigh
about six year sence they dropped theI
man, and 'twan't in coOl-blooded
murder neither. They've trailcd about
God knows how and He only knows
when, kcepin' out'n the Sherif7s way,
and wherever they've went she's went
too, and sence they've been here she
comes in every little while apd stay:
round like this yer. Jint'S her hus
band, you know" All, as if l didn''
know!
MY heart ached for her and used Il
long, yet dread, to see her face. But
never did, though once she removed The
faded sunbonnet as she passed me il
the dim twilight, going down to tn,
camp in the edge of the thicket, wher,
she and the child slept at night unde
the dark sky with its solemn stars. Blu
il was so late that could see only
lonely pallor and sunken eyes tina
seemed not to see.
One morning at last saw her climl
into a rickety old buggy, drawn by tn,
meager gray horse that had beer
staked near her camp. l saw her settl,
the child in her lap. grasp the rein
aud drive slowly up the long Hill tina
leads out of the town. AT the top of i
she paused and stood up in the buggy
looking back. Her slender form wa.
sharply defined against the early morn
ing sky for a moment can see il vet
Then She sank back into her seat, anC
presently she had passed out of sight.
The mountains that had beer
wrapped in purple mists when they haC
a a.