Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1901-08-22
The Safety Of Numbers.
BY Gwendolen Overton.


| an no. OENN1OON mac begun LIE Dy
u choosing the wrong man. In the
resulting misery, the fact of having
plenty of company gave her no con-
ISOLATION. She had had many suitors,
both because she was the only girl
within a radius of so miles, and be-
cause she was a very nice and pretty
one. But only Leslie and Dennison
had ever stood a chance, and Den
nison had won out-nO one could
quite tell why, Maggie herself least
of all, probably. Leslie would have
been the better match, viewed finan-
cially, and looks were in his favor
very decidedly.
But Maggie chose Dennison with
the usual wisdom of her kind; and
having no particular religious prefer
ences one way or another, went with
him to the nearest adobe town and
had herself married by padre, as be-
ing the easiest and quickest way out
OF it. And thereafter for three years
Dennison had treated her abominably
He made nothing whatever of beating
her; he overworked her; he drank.
His conduct was the scandal of the
surrounding country. Knowing Mag
gie's progenitOrs and her own dispo-
sition, the wonder to every one was
that she did not shoot Dennison and
have done with it. Since nothing of
the kind happened, the only possible
conclusion was that she loved him.
Which she did. If he had neglected
her she might perhaps have had re-
course to a six-shooter; but it is at
least having some notice taken of you
t. be knocked down, and Maggie fire.
ouently was.
looks after a while, the more especial
ly as they were of the sort that are
of youth alone. The plains and hard
usage age a woman early. So when
Maggie was "a she looked ten years
older than that.
Then Dennison left her. He found
somebody he liked better, one day
when he went over to the railroad
town IS miles away, and took her
away with him. Maggie had no no.
ton where he had gone, else she
would probably have followed him.
Instead, she stayed on the ranch and
hoped and pinned. She carried on the
ranch alone, it being one of those
plains ranches having no especial
boundaries, no especial fields or crops,
and only scrawny mich COW or two
and few chickens. There were a
couple of hundred head of stock, cat
tie that roamed the country and were,
to all intents, wild, and some broncos
of much the same sort. These re-
CURED no care, so Maggie spent most
of her days sitting on the sill of the
back door of the adobe and staring
off toward the mountains and think
ing about Dennison.
The Mexican woman who lived with
her squatted on the ground-in the
Shade in summer, in the sun in win
ter-with a black tapalo over her
head, smoking cigarettes until the
hard soil in the neighborhood was
| SITeWcQ Will oOl oN PoPSt S'NA"P''
She had IA children. Maggie had
none. There had been baby, but it
died. A whitewashed board fence
upon the top of knoll that was to
be seen from the back door marked
where the grave had been before the
coyotes had torn it up. Besides the
woman and the IA children there were
two "greaser'' vaqueros, whose duties
were not burdensome, who ate jerked
beef and fri1oles, and helped Maggie
wait for Dennison to come back.
But though she sat day after day
with her fading eyes looking toward
the mountains beyond which was the
railway and from which came the
road, no Dennison appeared. Other
people came by at long intervals.
Twice Leslie had ridden up. There
had been a years space between the
visits. And at the second one Maggie
had seemed no nearer consolation or
common sense than at the first. Then
he had let IS months elapse.
When he came down the road this
time he saw Maggie, from afar off,
sitting on the door sill with her chin
in her hands, the Mexican woman
hugging narrow strip of shade, for
it was near noon, and some chickens
and children variously disposed. He
dismounted with a clanlling of spurs
and led his broncho to the water
trough.
Maggie rose without haste and went
over to him. She might have seen
him five minutes before from any sign
OF surprise or pleasure she made.
Hers was the apathy of the woman of
the frontier rancho, to whom life is
as her outlook upon the world-dead,
fruitless and dry. She took him into
the house when the pony was turned
over to a vaquero. Had he heard
news of Dennison, she wanted to
know. Leslie looked serious--so seri.
GUS that she leaned forward with her
yellow hands clasped hard. What was
ii, she asked. Dennison was dead. 1t
was that he had come to tell her. He
had just returned from the other
side of the Colorado, and had had
news of her husband there, quite by
chance.
Tell me-" said Maggie, "tell me the
whole thing. 1 want to know"
t Leslie told her, tipping back in his
chair with his hands clasped behind
his fine head, and his buckskinned
legs crossed with swing.