The Evening post. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1888-1889, 1889-01-03
THE CLOUD BURST.
Pall.nee step,e,on in olroman.e

Glenn and had been married just four
years when made up my mind to leave
him. My heart told me was wrong, but
would not draw back Two years be-
fore we were married Glen went to Col
orado, and all the time he was away
wrote me loving letters full of his home
in the new country, the glorious climate
and scenery, his struggles and his fail
ures. / longed to be with him, the quiet
village life grew distasteful home mon
otonous and each day so like another
that / hated to 90 to bed at night, |
dreamed of mountains and plains. and,
of course, of Glenn AT last the time
came when he thought best to come for
me, and we were married one August
morning. | remember he was pale and
quiet only u look in his dark eyes that /
shall never forget.
AS was getting ready to run away
from him that look haunted me.
When l saw my new home my heart
went back with great throh of anguish
10 my fathers house, the trees and
flowers and the pretty Eastern village.
Before me was wide desert dotted with
low huts, so far apart | could not tell
even if they were inhabited, and close at
hand was three-room log cabin Not q
tree, brook, bit of green grass, only
scorched plains with gay cardinal
flowers, or miles of sun-ilowers quivering
in the hot, dry air. The fiat distance
ended in rugged brown foothills, but
Glen said could see the Rockies on q
clear day.
/ laid my pretty gowns aside, donned
sombre calcoes, and sun-bonnet that
our hired girl at home had made me for
wedding gift had laughed n little at
it then, but now ii was my greatest COM
fort. | took up the weary routine of
life and labor that falls to rancher's
wife in this land of sand and sunshine.
/ was not unhappy, for | had Glenn. |
put my wedding presents around the
cabin, giving it a lived-in look, but the
furniture was very limited and all my
cooking lessons were of no avail, for
there was nothing to cook with.
Glen and the man worked all day in
the fields harvesting with the wild,
young horses that had brought me and
my finery from the town fifty miles off,
and / STAYED alone. There was not even
dog to speak to, though Glen had a
collie with the sheep.herder miles away.
He couldn't understand why | should
want dog to bring in dirt and make me
more work, so | never asked him again.
NY hands grew rough and hard in the
alkali water, and my face tanned with
that deep brown peculiar to Colorado.
could understand what little Western
girl had said to me in my Eastern home
when she cried admiringly, "Why
everybody is so white here"
Still Glen loved me; he thought me
No ,rottx, ayar and nur Uintar Nyos
the happiest in my life. The man was
gone, and VIC were all alone. We read
aloud evenings, drove to the postofffct
twenty miles away for our mail and
took long walks over the plains. He
promised / should have a saddle in the
spring and ride with him; then he would
build porch around the house; and my
sister should come out and visit me.
In the spring the horses were needed
for ploughing, Glen was too busy to g
to town for the lumber for the porch
and we were too poor to entertain any
one. Yet l never thought of complain
ing then. | had cast my fate with Glenn
and l worked for his interest. | neve
once longed for the old easy day
at home If he said: "Tv,
got the smartest little wife in the world,
/ would work myself to death for week
but he seldom talked or petted me-h
was too busy with his farm work
That second winter baby came anC
the young German widow who stayet
with me six months said it was the pref
tiest boy she ever saw. / thought
looked like Glenn, and of course, h
thought it was my image. Like all youn
mothers | was easily frightened and
think l had some cause, for the docto
was fifty miles off. may have been owe
lN,,A tnl,o DO.
between Glen and me was his indiffel
ence to my worries about baby. He woul
laugh at me and go about his work, Will
carried the child all day, soothing il
fretting That summer Twas not strong an
may have been as Glen said, "hystericy
Glen grew Droad-shouldered an
manly, bronzed with ruddy health an
life, but l was weakly and dropping
with haggard eyes and hollow cheeks
saw it plain enough and had no an
bition to alter my shabby gowns to I
me, nor to look neat. / grew slatternl
and careless. Was / to blame? ha
to cook for two men, tend q sick baby
and wash and iron. All day long tn
fierce sun beat down upon our litt
home, where the kitchen was like a
oven and the bed room sitting.
was on my feet from sun up till su
down, for somehow ] never learned
get through with work, it was Away
ahead of me.
Then Glenn would say, "You are &c
ting cross, little. woman, you seem 6
spiritless. Are you sorry that you ma
ried me? Your life is no harder tina
any rancher's wife endures. 1t will onl
last short time, then we can get bette
things and some one to help you" Thi
to me, when had never complained.
He gave all his love words and pc
ting to baby now, and / used to woI
der in dumb despair why it was 81
Was it that he had changed or |?
~ y n -
The third summer Mrs. France cam
She was the widow of q cattle king WI
owned all the land about us but our lit
homestead. She had been in Europ
but usually spent her summers at h,
ranch, ten miles from my home. | WI
washing that morning on the shady sic
of the house, when | heard the sound {
horses hoofs, and a handsome woma
with bold, black eyes, came dashir
around the house on n fine thoroughbrt
mare. j noticed her perfectly-fttir
habit, her exquisite gloves and hat, IN
beautiful face. No need to introdu
herself; from Mrs. Bohm's-tho Germ0
widows description knew my visit
was Mrs France.
81 thought I'd find somebody" aft,