New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1892-01-31
MRS. KEATS BRADFORD.
XII.
AT THE RANCH.

snoken truth 1t was not In the least like Paris
There were a great many points of divergence
perbaps the one upon which he dwclt mostly
w,s .bat 70 vera had been with him in the French
city and she was not with him at the ranch
But if this fact were much In his mind he gave
no sign that it was so.
Life on the ranch of a wealthy man is only as
rough as those who dwell there please to make
IT, But almost unavoidably it has an element of
freedom which is not found in the midst of too
much civilization.
Bradford every day thanked fortune that he
could be untrammcllcd under Gods heaven lie
was on horseback most OF the daylight hours.
He developed talent for being of real assistance
az "roundups. He offered his services to the
neighbors who were going TO count their cattle
and neighbors sometimes lived a long way of.
Bradford will be centaur," said Lister to
his wife one day. He will soon sleep and eat
In the saddle"
And what better could do with him
self?" Bradford asked in response. Il am going
out to Pink Rock this morning l shall try my
new mare"
Mrs. Lister, who was leaning back behind the
coffee urn at the breakfast table, looked some
what intently at Bradford as he spoke.
The mail wagon comes up by Pink 2ock at
about eleven" she said.
YES" said Bradford. II am going to meet
it. l expect letter from Mrs. Bradford.
Mrs. Lister sighed with some ostentatlon.
1T is really refreshing TO me to observe that
there is one man who is not ashamed to be glad TO
hear from his wife"
Now, Sue, don't be silly" remarked Lister,
who was looking the latest Boston paper.
Hullo," he added quickly This must he about
the lady herself Sit down. my friend. Here are
two columns of high art-lots of stuff on Mid
August and Mrs. Keats Bradford Sit down
and be entertained. I'll read it 10 you. That
roam mare will take you to Pink Rock early
enough"
Bradford walked round the table and looked
over Listers shoulder He read few paragraphs,
enough 70 know that the writer knew his sub
ject Perhaps Soue writing again. But no.
this was not Soule's style; it good, but not
SO good.
Il had an idea that Mrs. Bradford was just
an amateur played with art in dettante way
like so many others" said Mrs. Lister.
she is not amateur at ALL" replied Brad
ford. She has touch Of power.
lie did not wait to hear the article which his
friend now began to read lie went ont and
saddled his horse. few moments later he gal
Ioped by the window. He swung of his hat to
Mrs Lister. who waved her hand at him.
She turned toward her husband.
Mrs. Bradford"
Don't you think it would be little more just
TO wait until you had seen her ?" he asked
There's need Of my waiting l know |
don't like her; and you need not read me that
lot of words about that picture OF hers. sha'n't
listen"
Bradford rode very fast. The air was glorious
and stimulating; the sunshine something 10
penetrate and comfort ones body and bones
And when these corporal parts of are com
fortcd the spirit is likely TO share in the good.
The mail for the Lister ranch, and for few
other places near, was brought twice week by
boy on a pony The boy and the pony were
usually lazy, and the time of their arrival was
of the utmost uncertainty Bradford often rode
10 meet them, and sometimes he covered fifteen OF
the twenty-five miles traversed by thH mail car
rier But Pink Rock. huge abutment that
glowed beneath the unwavering sunlight, was
oftenest the place Of meeting. There Bradford
would select MS mail from the canvas bag hung
on the ponys saddle
Now, as the brilliant rocks began to show more
hnd more wildly as the mare stretched forward
in her long lope, the mares rider saw an op-
ject turn the corner round the Gin. vi course
it was the boy. Then curious start came TO
the mans pulses as he perceived that 1t was
not the boy. The clear air made everything al
most as strange as q mirage. Bradford had not YET
become accustomed to this wonderful lucdity of
vision which had often deceived MN. bnt
that WAS q woman coming toward him. And
she was not so near as he had Thought. Shc sat
her pony well. At last he saw that She was one
1vho did everything well-his cousin Nanessa
He was of his horse in moment and stand
ing by her holding both her hands. "Rowcna is
we'll she exclaimed almost instantly Doht
think I am the bearer of bad tidings. saw
her a week ago. / suppose she writes 10 Sou'
and il was not necessary 10 send word by me-
That boy with the mailbag is somewhere on this
trail How charming 10 be able to speak OF
trail instead of street! l was deadly urea
q, streets Perhaps you are deadly tired OF
trails, Keats"
Not in the least"
Bradford mounted his horse The two rode
at wouldn't wait for any vehicle on "icei'
N he brought out 10 take me TO Mt Lisvci
ranch. | did not come here TO be dragged aoou'
an wheels | borrowed this pony and | came
on with the mail-boy who is not, l hope q type
q, Western enterprise. All have longed ior
those mountains and for air like this. what
miserable life the life Of cities Is
CONTINUALLY iostled by some one; all
,.our noble thoughts suffocated by the breath OF
crowds. "
Miss Phillips looked about her with sparkling
ewes Bradfdfd's glance was fixed on her lie
smiled.
so glad you approve of these mountains, and
the country in general" he said.
Don't sneer.'
She turned TO gaze fairly at INN as she spoke.
lie answered the gaze.
Keats she said suddenly why dont you so
home?"
Il thought should stay all winter" he an
swered.
Il am sure of one thing" she remarked with
apparently unnecessary emphasis, and that is,
il | could be a man for twenty-fOur hours-yes, !