Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1900-12-05
CHAPTER V.-CoNr1NuED.

copyright 1897. by f Tennyson Neely.1
j.. 4 CHAPTER V.-CoNT1NUED.
"What on earth does John Folsom
want of heusekeeper? ?" asked the
helpmates of his friends at Fort En-
Dry, and in the busy, busting town.
''Why don't he marry again?'' queried
those who would gladly have seen some
unprovided sister, niece or daughter
thus cozily disposed of. It was years
since Elinor's mothers DEATH and yet
John Folsom seemed to mourn her as
fondly as ever, and except in midwin-
ter, barely a month went by in which
he did not make his pilgrimage to her
never-neglected grave. Yet, despite
his vigorous years in saddle, sunshine
or storm, and his thorough love for
outdoor life, Folsom, now we'll over so,
could no longer SO lightly bear the
hard life of the field. He was amazed
to see how his sleepless dash to head off
Red Cloud and his days and nights of
gallop back had told upon him. Wom-
en- at Fort Emory who looked with ap-
proving eyes on his rudy face and
trim, erect figure, all SO eloquent of
health, and who possibly contemplated,
too, his solid bank account, and that
fast7building house, the finest in Gate
City, had been telling him all winter
long he ought to have companion
elder guide for Miss Elinor on her
return; he ought to have some one to
preside at his table; and honest John
had promptly answered: "Why, Nell
will do all that" which necessitated
their limiting that although Miss Fol-
som would be young lady in years,
she was only a child in experience, and
would be much the better for some one
who could take mothers place. mo
one could do that" said John, with
sudden swimming of his eyes, and that
put sudden stop to their schemings,
for the time at least, but only for the
time. Taking counsel together, and
thinking how lovely it would be now if
Mr.. Folsom would only see how much
there was in this unmarried damsel, or
that widowed dame, the coterie at En-
CRY again returned to the subject, I'M
til John, in his perplexity, got the idea
that propriety demanded that he
should have housekeeper against his
daughters coming, and then he did go
and do, in his masculine stupidity, just
exactly what they wouldn't have had
him do for worlds-invite a woman, of
whom none of their number had ever
heard, to come from Omaha and take
the domestic management of hishearth
and home. All he knew of her was
what he heard there. She was the
widow of a volunteer officer who had
died of disease contracted during the
war. She was childless, almost desti-
tute, accomplished, and SO devoted to
her church duties. She was interest
ing and refined and highly educated.
He heard the eulogiums pronounced
by the good priest and some of his
flock, and Mrs. Fletcher, a substantial
person of some 40 years at least, was
duly installed.
Fort Emory was filled with women
folk and consternation-most of the
men being afeld. The seething ques-
ton of the hour was whether they
should call on her, whether she was to
be received at the fort, whether she
was to be acknowledged and recognized
at all, and then came, mirabile dictu,
great government official from lash
ington to inspect the Union Pacific
and make speeches at various points
along the road, and Mrs. Fletcher,
mind you, walked to church the very
next Sunday on the honorable secre-
tary's arm, sat by his side when he drove
out to hear the band at Emory and re-
ceived with him on the colonel's veran-
da, and that settled it. Received and
acknowledged and visited she had to
be. She might well prove a*woman
worth knowing. s&% - = =
Within fortnight she he d made the
new homestead blossom like the rose.
Within month everything was in per-
feet order for the reception of Elinor
and her school fri2nd-a busy, anxious
month, in which Folsom was fitting to
and fro to Reno and Frayne, as we have
seen; to Halls ranch in the Medicine
Bow, to Rawhide and Laramie, and the
reservations in northwestern Nebras-
ka; and it so happened that he was
away the night Maj. Burleigh, on his
way to the depot, dropped in to inquire
if he could see Mr.. Folsom moment on
important business. The servant said
he was not in town-had gone, she
thought, to Omaha. She would inquire
of Mrs. Fletcher, and meantime would
the major. step inside? Step inside, and
stand wonderingly at the threshold of
the pretty parlor, he did,: and then
there was a rustic of silken skirts on
the floor above, and as he turned to
listen his haggard, careworn face took
on a look something like that which
overspread it the night he got the let
ter at something that told Of be
wilderment and perplexity, as a quiet,
modulated voice told the servant to tell
the gentleman Mr.. Folsom might not
return for several days. Burleigh had
no excuse to linger, none to ask 10 hear
that voice again; yet as he slowly de-
scended the steps its accents were still
strangely ringing in his ears. Where
on earth had he heard that voice be-
fore? z 2e.E
CHAPTER VI.
I'M.