Santa Fe daily New Mexican., 1897-03-16
And she loved him all the

tain Anna Tratford. he asked her to
marry him, quite the last thing he would
have expected himself to do-and she,
being completely fascinated, consented
without even a decent amount of hesi
tation. 1t was arranged that in the late
fall she should join Charming at the
town nearest his post and there be mar
ried.
In September, the unhappy Mrs Nor
ton having gone hopelessly away to an
other garrison, the lieutenant rejoined
his regiment He mentioned the fact Of
his engagement to no one, but proceeded
promptly to lure OH another woman, a
girl Of gorgeous beauty, a hot blooded
brunette, with the eyes Of a Jael, the
brow Of Madonna, and sensitive,
we'll made mouth. She was the only
daughter Of Colonel Ross, motherless
and betrothed to one Lieutenant Haw-
thorne, who had loved her since they
had been babies making mud pies to-
gether on the sun blasted parade ground
of Camp Thomas. She broke her en-
gagement, and she broke young Haw-
thorne's heart. But her own turn was to
come.
In November, giving way ungracious-
ly enough to Anna Trafford' S pleadings,
Charming granted her permission to
join him at the railroad town. She was
very poor. Generally she was consider
ate and self sacrificing. Now she clam
ored and would not be quieted until a
mortgage was raised on the wretched
little house that was all in the world
her mother and crippled sister owned.
She bought her ticket with the money,
and ten days after the receipt Of Chan
ning's letter she was at the meeting
place-alOne.
She spent day and two nights in
the mean little depot hotel, very nearly
out of her mind with loneliness, fright
and at last an acknowledged distrust.
Then Channing's mother arrived, and
an officer met them with all ambulance.
Charming was dying of fever, the
mother told her. The doctor had tele-
graphe6 for her without her son S knowl-
edge the day after the girl had left the
village. Then Anna reproached herself
for her suspicious with unreasoning bit
terness.
The drive to the post took two days.
1t was a horrible experience for the off
GER. The road stretched on, on, on,
across desert and bad lands, where even
the greasewood and mesquite was burn
ed by the terrible sun. The old woman
sank from the dust and the heat into an
almost senseless state. The girl, being
young and strong and alive, fought with
the strangling dust, gasped, twisted her
small hands and bit into her lips in a
perfectly silent struggle. Sometimes, as
the lieutenant sat opposite them, he
wished that they would cry Or make
some sound.
The beautiful daughter of Colonel
Ross was standing by Channing's bed
alone when the doctor led the mother
and her young companion in. The lieu
tenant had been dead 20 minutes. The
dark eyed woman did not turn. She had
forgotten everything in all the world
save only Channing's face. When the
southern girl dropped down at the bed
| side and screamed for her husband, she
started.
is the poor thing orazy?" she asked
duly of Mrs. Charming.
"No. But she was not married to
him. Only she was to have been mar
ried at Santa Maria two or three days
ago-I forget when. He sent for her. 4"
''That can't be true, because am his
wife. %
Mrs. Charming caught at the bedpost
| with her shriveled old hand. "Non-
sense!" she said.
"Indeed it is true. Aren't you his
mother?" She put her arm tenderly
about the bent shoulders. II thought
you were. You look like him. He and
were married last night at midnight,
when they told us he was going to die. F"
Gamma! Come away, Anna You've
no right there. Get up This girls his
wife. He didn't love you. He married
her. He married her-last night"
1t was cruel, but Mrs. Charming had
gone mad.
For five years afterward Colonel Ross
| cared for the insane mother Of his
| daughters husband-even when his
daughter was dead
But until Charming was buried in the
graveyard on the hill, where the coyotes
dug up the mounds at night, and the
prairie dogs barked shrilly, and the
snakes glided along the dry, baked earth
into their holes-until he was buried
there the two women staid by her.
Their trust in the dead man never fall
tered. The girl believed he had been
ensnared on his deathbed, the wife
| that he had never loved the childish,
pretty Virginian. Yet neither, out OF
| pity, spoke her convictions.
! Watching over his mother, they sat
in the room where he had died and lis
tened to the thud Of the soldiers feet
as they marched by outside, following
the young officers flag covered coffin.
Then there was a long, long silence.
| They were wide apart-the wife with
her beautiful head in her hands, the
girl looking straight at the wall, the
old woman muttering and scratching at
her gown with her crooked fingers.
At last came the sound of faroff
volley of musketry. The girl jumped
up. "What's that?"
1.-THE firing over his grave.
In moment it came again. The girl
stood swaying; the wife sat with her
head still bowed. 1t was no new sound
| to her.
A pause-then the last volley. The
girl fell, and the woman, lifting her
head. stared stupidity at the pretty, dead
face, at the fixed, childish eyes that still
| looked hurt, while the mother muttered