Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1894-01-12
Draw country.

Draw country
Everybody loved her. They couldn't
help it !; but think the reason for the
entire admiration every man of hel
acquaintance-young, old or middle
aged-gave her was that she was, in
spite of her bravery in carrying or
alone, for twenty years, the trying
work of ranch, SO thoroughly wo-
man,
The slender store of accomplish.
ments acquired in her girlhood were
not thrown aside because she some.
times had to ride the range, gun in
hand, looking for timber wolves
There wasn't a young fellow in the
neighborhood who-didn't make con
fidante of her about his love affairs -
particularly if they Glanced to go
wrong.
She was always ready to give an
hour to listening to their woes, giving
them good advice or playing Smith S
March or Maiden's Prayer for them on
the wheezy little melodeon.
She could sing, too, in thin, sweet
old voice, songs that the boys loved
and whose choruses they could Join in,
such as "Roll on, Silver Moon and
''Araby's Daughter
Her own boy, her only son, had
turned out, as widows only sons seem
prone to do, not exactly bad, but tri-
fling.
Perhaps she loved him too well or
humored him too much, but it is sure
that her little court of admirers was
wrathy more than once over reports OF
the hardships wrought for his mother
by Wade Moore's neglect.
People had seen her ont on the
range in bad weather, doing a mans
work, and been told in hasty apology
that Wade was sick at home, but
these seizures never kept him from
town of an evening, il there was any
fun on hand.
He wasn't popular with the boys
who adored Mrs. Moore, and they
would have been glad to let him see it
in some marked way, only they knew
that any blow aimed at him must
strike her gentle heart first.
Finally, some time along in the
summer, he went to Kansas City with
cattle, and his mother had been rln-
ming the Bar 6 alone for nearly five
months.
Her friends had not neglected her
in that time. Tom Andrews, the
young fellow who was manager of the
Three C's ranch, her next neighbor to
the south, and one of her best friends,
rode over nearly every day to see how
she was getting on, and whether there
was anything he could do for her.
This fine crisp December morning,
the day before Christmas, he found
her sitting despondently on her porch,
with no work touched and her hands
in her lap, and in answer to his anxi-
Gus inquiry she told him she was
troubled about Wade.
worrying because you want him
home?" asked Tom. "Where is Wade
now?"
AS he glanced at Mrs. Moore he saw
the work-worn knotted little hands
close convulsively together. Her
iot' "ao ptllt, hHi IOfl tHouSHb she
was crying. 81 don't know" she said
In voice scarcely above a whisper.
Tom sat down on the porch edge,
speechless with astonishment. ''Have
nk you heard from him?" he said.
81 haven't heard word since he
left, she replied, ''and I've got so
anxious and worried I've got to tell
somebody
81 should think so, said Tom.
"Why, it's"
Give months, filed in Mrs. Moore ;
sthut I wasn't uneasy until after the
fair closed. | was sure he was there.
He had plenty of money from the cat
tie to go all right, and stay till it
closed, and somehow ! was sure that
was what he meant to do.
"Why, Mrs. Moore" said Tom,
'he'd never run off and leave you that
way You were intending to go to-
gether when the cattle were sold,
weren't you?"
1t was cruel question, and Tom re-