Western liberal. (Lordsburg, N.M.) 1887-1919, 1898-10-14
PED'S u

big oak tnht bTbW Ny lHo hlplhsA N'ots
He was in his shirt sleeves, and his
coarse straw hat lay ON the grass at his
side.
He was leaning forward, his chin
resting ON his hands, his elbows upon
his knees, calmly putting a short cob
pipe. Near by sat his wife, busily en-
gagged in stringing beans for dinner.
ITS bin most ten years since Pod went
away" observed bIr. Bugford, blowing
a cloud of smoke over a vagrant bum
blebee that was buzzing about a holly
hook.
"Ten years come this fall, " remarked
his wife without looking up.
Como this corn cuttin time, " cor
rected Bugford. II reckerlect it we'll.
He went off jist when 1 war busiest
cuttin corn, an | had ter hire Sug John
son in his place. Sug warn't worth his
salt, an it war a clear loss NV 30 ter
me-"
but you can't blame Ped for that,
said his wife.
"He might "a stayed till tho corn was
cut"
"He lowed you wasn't treatin him
list right-then Ped was our only
child"
IL war an only child myself, " COM
planned Bugford. ian reckon warn't
treated any better an Ped. but didn't
go runnin away. You remember my
daddy wouldn't hear ter our bein mar
ried in u bizy time. See he ter me:
'Silas, / amt goin ter have q wcddin
goin on right in plowin time. Wait till
the corn's laid by, an then tharll be
plenty NV time fer fixin fer the we'd
dim"
Yes" said Mrs. Bugford, "Cn we
had ter wait too. My mother was sot
ng'in our bein married right in gardenin
time. She seq ter me, SCI she: Mandy.
it amt no use in talkin NV yer 5ein
married this spring. Sayin nothin NV
the work that's got ter be done, it
would 10 a waste ter kill them chickens
till harvest, an then thar's nothin in
the garden ter make pies but pieplant
an g~ooseberries, an they never did agree
with rue. Wait till after harvest, Man
dy,' SCI she, AN the blackberries will
all be ripe Mother was powerful sot
ag'in extravaganza II believed in
young folks mindin their parents.
$50 she did. an so did my daddy, A"
said Bugford, "but things are different
now, an meuby l war a little hard on
Ped"
"Ped was a good boy"
Eyes, but ho kept goin with them
Wykof boys when ho knowed that ole
Wykof bad treated mo meaner than
dirt, then he war forever workin with
that fool machine ideo NV his, when he
ort ter bin at work on the farm"
HE said the machine might make III
all rich if ne got it fixed up right, >
suggested Mrs. Bugford.
"But SIGH fool things don't ever gif
fixed right, " declared Silas, ian / reck
ON he's found it out by this time. Pee
war a good hand ter work, though
when ho did work, an mebby ort tel
lowed him ter have his way abouI
them fool idees nv his.
at would fave been the best thing
boys will 10 boys"
$50 they will, an Ped was only 49,
jist when a boy knows the least al
thinks ne knows the most"
Silas arose and stood leaning agains
the big oak. His wife got up and wen
into the kitchen. Presently Bud Whit
came along the road, carrying a corr
knife, and, stopping, he leaned agains
the fence.
He was a young man Of spare build
with a half inch Of downy beard upoI
his freckled face.
"Pap lowed ye might want some N
ter help ye cut corn, " he said, after eS
changing greetings with Silas-
II dunno jist yit, " the farmer &c
piled. "I'm intendin ter tel
morrer mornin, though tho fodder is
little green yit. My corn is later "a
yourn."
"Yes, bout two weeks. Pap sed
20 needed any help he'd come in til
mornin."
"Waal, I'm goin ter want a coupl
nv hans fer a few days, an l reckon y
an yer daddy might both come"
''Pap'll come, but I've got ter see e
strippin the sorghum cane"
~ reckon / might git another hand
Tell yer daddy ter bring one if lIe can.
"All right. Heard anything frol
Ped lately?"
mot fer a good SPELL"
"How'E he gittin alongg'
"He don't never say. Jist SEE he
well an workin every day"
''Don't talk nv comm homer"
"Noap. Reckon he'll sow his vii
oats first"
IL low he will. Pap never lowe
me ter SOW no wild oats. WAL, ! mu
DO travelin. Good day"
He was walking away when Sill
called out;
"say. Bud, ye didn't sec anything .
my ole speckled COW as ye came alonI
did yer She hain't bin up terday, dan
her ole hide, an the calf's most bawl'
Itself ter DEATH