The Minneapolis journal., 1901-02-19
OUT ON THE PLAIN
BY ALICE MAcGoWAN.

him with her ardent, courageous eyes, 'you
are all have to love now, since-since dad
dy's gone; and If 1t was-if it was-lots worse
than 1t is I'd go anyhow-all the more.
maybe
"And you shan't be sorry, dearest" an
swered Arch. You know yourself, it never
got such hold on me before. l couldn't
seem'-his sun-and- wind tanned face flush
ing still darker red-'.to get back to my
self, to sense myself 1t was all around me-
Nearly all the other fellows drink, and I'd
get at 1t again before I was really myself"
Il know, dear. Both of my brothers, back
In old Missouri, are the same. That's what
made daddy SO bitter about you and me-"
But six months up the plains, away
from it all-and with you, Stela-itll settle
the whisky question forever / amt afraid
to ask you darling; and you know I'd rather
die than bring trouble to you. / tell you, /
know myself, and you'll see, I'll make it
stick
What offer is it you have? Where are
you-are we-going, and what are you going
TO do?''
HolbroOks going to send herd of six
thousand cattle on to the Staked Plain to
range he's picked out up there. It's raw
country-Indians and buffalo barely off it
and it's big wages to go up with the herd
and keep sign-camp-takes some sand to do
It, you know
II WAS III tue ldtLer. part OF the seventies,
In western Texas, while the range was yet
general and unfenced. The string of sign
camps, with it's riders, circlng the range a
man had chosen for his cattle was the living
fence which held the animals from straying
or from drifting" before storms. These
camps the cattleman placed, as nearly as the
question of water supply admitted, at equal
distances around his range, or across such
parts as had not the natural barrier of
In fVryo
| men, whose duty it was to ride out daily in
opposite directions, until they met the riders
from the next adjoining camp, looking always
for straying cattle, and turning them back
| into the range.
And the upper camp Arch continued
eagerly, don't need but one rider, because
it's right against the Canadian river. Hol-
brook will be glad to give it to me if I'll
only come. We can live there the six months
its big wages-and save every cent Of the
money. Then, with the little bunch I've got
already running with Holbrooks cattle, we
could begin for ourselves. Stella, o, Stella!"
he broke off suddenly, I'm the happiest man
in Texas. It's like being taken out of hell
and led plumb straight into heaven''
They We're married the next day. Stella's
was the temperament which, when once the
heart has been given. sends talents, abilities
the labor of the hands, all, gladly after it
in devoted service. Then came a happy ex-
citing time buying Stella's outfit, that is to
say, the things which old Hank Pearsall
head cook of the expedition, pronounced suit
| able to "a lady cowboy a-keepin' sign-camp. -
Finally the great caravan started lazily
and ponderously up the trail 1t was a mar
| velous pastoral panorama, and Stella's quick
| artist soul reveled in it's quaint picturesque
ness. She perceived it ALL the country, the
| cattle, the means, the daily round, to be like
| a survival, a bit out of the life of some old
| Indian owner of herds.
There was the vast herd strung out and
| moving very slowly that the cattle might
| Craze as they travelled, the cowboys riding
along the sides, the six great mess wagons
| (hitched two or three together, with teams
| of eight and ten-and even twelve-horses)
| bringing up the rear. At night the cattle
| were rounded into great mass and bedded
| down, the men taking turns, by twos, riding
night herd, singing loudly to keep the ami
mails quiet. Each mess wagon had it's two
men, its stock of provisions and a tent or
| some materials to build dugout camp.
| Stella came to have a sisterly affection and
admiration for these big, rough fellows, in
whose company she Jared slowly northward
on that strange journey. She saw them, day
| by day and night after night, cheerily endur
ing hardships and facing dangers as great
as those of the campaigning soldier: The
riding of night herd, the crossing of rivers
pede, these things were attended with no
glory. They were done with light hearts
and jesting words, daily, and as a matter
of course. And in the evening these cham
pions came like great children to sit about
her, listening while she sang old songs to
| the accompaniment of her guitar, or told sto
ries from such classics as she knew.
They had been three months in their little
adobe house on the open plain, whose ingen-
l1y0 vat ms Stella
of studying. The clean, high air had been
Gods own medicine to her, and, with her
heart full of happiness she had thrived and
| blossomed, this dark beauty, in the rakng
wind and burning sun which destroy blonde
delicacy And the grim, menacing 'if, -
which at first lay so close behind her joy,
grew DINNER and DINNER. Every day when
Arch came home to her. or when, as often
! happened, she saddled up and rode out to
meet him, he shouted joyfully at sight Of her:
"Great Scott, but you're a beauty, honey!
You're bowling beauty, no less!,
But to-day the terror was upon her She
had waited at first eagerly, impatiently, then
anxiously, and at last in a numb certainty
/ of disaster. Four o'clock came, then 5, 6, Z,
and Arch had not returned
| In the GOODNESS OF despair she put her own
saddle upon Buckshot, and an old one which
Arch kept for emergencies on Crepeing Mo-
ses. Leading the extra horse, she rode out
as Arch had ridden at sunrise, almost due
east toward the adjoining camp. The great
white moon of the high plains country shone
| in awful beauty over that waste of desolate
emptiness.
sit might be an accident" Stella whis-
pered. Something might have happened to
Arch, or to Bob" Bob was the rider from
the next camp, who met Arch. ''Why am
so sure tits the one thing? o God! let 1t be
| anything-anything but that! Not that! Not
now, when we've lived in heaven together all
| these months, and he seemed saved from it
at lasti''
| So she rode across the blank mysterious
night alone straight toward the splendid
moon. She was stone cold, cramped in the
saddle and all her senses stunned down to
one aching agony of dread, when, after three
hours of fast riding, she suddenly saw before
her, silhouetted against the sky, the figure
of a man-Bob. she misunderstanding not far
| from saddled horse, and bending over an
other man, who lay, huddled and unsightly,
on the ground. And the pains of hell laid
| hold upon her heart.
| The ponies feet made almost no sound on
| the springy turf, and she was close at hand
when the man turned, showed back his big
hat and ran to her, crying:
q knew you'd come, honey! My Lordl how
hated to stay and give you such a scare
But Holbrook' 8 dead drunk and got a broken
| leg, / guess, and the team must have run
clean away with the blackboard. The wolves
would have eaten him up IL I'd left him to
go to you or to Bob It's the boss himself
Stella and he's been mighty good to me.
Couldn't
| But Stella was not listening to him. Her
wide eyes, so pitiful with pain and fear, had
| filed with merciful tears, and she only said: :
30 Arch! Forgive me, forgive me. oh,
thank God-Im so thankful, so happy!' and
she rested against her husbands heart
Il knew you'd be afraid OF that, honey, y
returned Arch, with quick intuition. II knew