Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1885-07-24
BYER'S FOLLY.
A PRIZE STORY.

tending furtive nap.
'I'm Charline Boyd; this is Georgie,
my little brother. We've come all the
way from Kansas City. We're your own
grandchildren. Mothers dead, Father
sent us here; he's gone to Arizona to
work in a mine"
He looked dazed,
"Clarrissy dead, m you her children9
Wal, it do beat all An you sich a big
gal, an him her livin' pictur, an l not
Known she wa gone. Come in, dears;
the gates beyant, but ye kin crawl under
the wires. There Now lemme look at
yer. Laws, child don't try to kiss me
my face amt none to clean"
He was pleasant faced. blue eyed old
man, with long, curling white hair. His
teeth were gone, but otherwise he SEEM
ed unlike old men, for he was straight
and tall, his arms brawny and strong. His
clothing was neat, but neglected look
ing, the buttons hanging, with little
tears widening into large rents. l was
only fourteen, but mother had taught
me to do a grown womans work; be-
side, George was five, and such baby
made me feel older.
"Where's grandma?" l asked,
For answer he pointed his thumb at a
mound awayat the end of the level field,
where a rude wooden cross was planted.
"She's thar. She went year ago.
I've lived alone sence, an it's the bless
in of Providence you children is come.
Oftentimes I've feared l might grow
desprat outer sheer lonesomeness N sor-
rer. Maybe you didn't know't, but
Clarrissy n mother quarrelled in years
gone, m never got fren'ly. wich was be-
cause yer mamarried yer pa, wich seemed
to me good man 'nuff; but wimmen is
queer, m mother looked high for Clar-
rissy,"
81 SO hungry |" cried poor little
Georgie, his lips quivering and his round
eyes filling with tears.
'Bless his little heart!" said grand
father, recovering himself and patting
my cheek softly. "Herc you be, jest off
a long journey, m me a-keepin yer in
the cold, an meanderin' on as if thar
want no to-day, but all yesterdays.
How did yer Gomez" he asked, unhar-
Messing the horses.
~ A"AA " - lucu ScHGlcLudu
gave us ride here in his fiGe carriage.
We came in the train with his daughter,
Miss Bessie Little. He owns big ranch
near here"
ga fine young lady," broke in grand
father. ''She was like darter to yer
granma, an though she lived miles
away, she was over night an day, a, gal
lopin' cross the plains on black horse
as is q thoroughbred, an fine speci.
men of horselesh as is seen in these
parts. She kin ride, too, m amt
feared O. nothin'. Mother set sight by
her."
We were now at the house, neat lit
tie one-story cottage, containing four
rooms. A comfortable barn and yard
Tor the cattle were near, and we'll close
by the door. There was a cosy kitchen,
a sitting g-room, and two bedrooms; one
the "spare room," grandfather said,
proudly. 1t looked neat and precise,
but was as cold and damp as the tomb.
The lonely old man had faithfully swept
and busted, and kept everything where
his wife had placed, even her work bas-
ket. with needle sticking in the half
finished gngham sleeve.
George and | took the spare room, and
built fire and aired the bedding, In
few days | grew competent to take
charge of the house, put things where
she had placed them, and cook the sim
pie meals-and these were very simple,
for grandfather was poor. Two old
horses, two COWS and calf comprised
the stock.
II don't hev no luck VII poultry,
Charley" he said. He called me Char
ley, for Charlinc was too "new tangled, +"
and Charley was the name of his dead
son. 'Mother used to raise sight, but
arter che went they begun dyin', an
what didn't die was eat by cayotes."
The last day of my first week on the
ranch Miss Bessie Little rode up to the
cabin on her coal black horse. She was
a weet-faced girl, blue eyed and yellow
haired and rode beautifully. She made
herself at home, petted George, and I,
| shy as | was, found myself confding to
her all my troubles and hopes. She SYM
pathized with me and helped me, cutting
a frock for George and basque for ME,
and when she rode off, she pre- missed to
come often.
The next day wagon came from hel
home, and in it was fine rooster and six
hens, and big bundle of clothing that
she had outgrown and that fitted me.
How dreary the howls of the cayotes
were at night, especially when one ol
their number was killed. They would
seem to unite in chorus of male2ictions.
Miss Bessie rode up one day, ana al
her heels was an overgrown shepherd pup.
py, with big paws and jolly little black
eyes.
"Here's a cayote exterminator, Grand
father Byers," she said, as she Jumped
from the saddle, and the black horse fel
eagerly to eating the short, crisp buffalo
grass, just as though he was not stuffed
at home.
She initiated the cayote's cry; the dog
bristled, his eyes shot fire, he looked ir
all points of the compass, and then, with
fierce howl, tore madly around tht
house.
Through Miss Bessie's kindness found
ready market for my eggs and chick
ems, and for the butter learned to make
and she showed me how to 'lay butte
down" for winter use.
Though she never had to work, sht
knew every task in farmers wife's ex
istence; and perhaps it was best, fo
there was a young man living near he
fathers ranch, who himself owned bis
ranch, and who took tea every SUNDAY
afternoon with her father, and went Il
church down in the VILLAGE every Sunda,