Crittenden press. [volume] (Marion, Ky.) 1879-1907, 1902-11-13
THE RANCHER'S
DAUGHTER.
~ LOUISE II. ADAMS.

1t was lonesome. | tried 10 keep
busy and forget it, but every time
stood in the station house door. an
listened to that big freight engine
just snortin' It's way up grade, an
knew / wouldn't see Matt again for
days, | couldn't help feelin' it. Twas
young then, an hadn't much sense,
an I'd stand there as long aS ! could
hear a sound OF the train. Then, as
il grew fainter, I'd hear the wind IN
the pines, an it always seemed as If
they talked. an had such good com
pany times, an it made me feel out
side Of things I'd have TO go in an
shut the door, mebbe cry little be
fore | went back to work.
when dad was in the office with
me. 'twasn't bad, but after he was too
sick to come very often, an staid on
the ranch with ma most Of the time,
while | was thankful ! could do the
work. for we needed the money, II
was hard. Except the few moments
each week | saw Matt. Oh, how |
used to watch for his train. I'd hear
her comm, Billy the engineer,
Matt said, sympathized with us-he
had girl himself. Well, he'd make
his old engine give a funny squeal a
they came round the curve, an Matt
he'd be ready to swing down off the
train, an then he'd run in the Office
-an'-but he could only stay q few
short minutes. Then Billy d give
9 great screech, an off they'd go. an
a | watched them pull out twas
lonesome.
Sometimes the operator at Tall
Pine called me up, an wanted to talk,
but Matt didn't like him, so / never
had much to say. i know he thought
me stupid
Our station was the nearest
Coyote Trail, an was busy enough
in the spring an fall, when the pros
pectors went in an out the noun
tains. Dad came down as often as
he could last fall, but he had one
dreadful bad turn, when I'd every
thing to see to. All night, when |
got home, he'd say: I'll be able to
90 with you in the mornin'. In the
mornin' 'twould be: III get there
tomorrow He felt so bad I'd COM
fort him by tellin' him how well |
was gettin' on. But one thing wor-
ried me, though l never told dad;
twas the money. We had a little old
safe, but it seemed such a poor place
10 trust. ! wasn't used to lookin' af-
ter money. Dad always did that, an
although Coyote was IA small station,
we often did good business, an our
express receipts ran it up until it
seemed a small fortune to me when !
ran the Office alone. Every time !
looked at that safe I'd worry until
I'd turn away an look out the win
dow.
Way up, on a line with the tree
tops, could see dads clearin', Half
Moon,' he called tit was shaped
that way, an dads fanciful. Well,
I'D think of him, an ma, an feel so
glad ! could be some help to them,
an I'D get near them thinkin', an
feel better But the money was a big
trial.
at bothered me most one bad day
late in the fall. In the mornin'
could see it snowin' on the noun
tains. II rained all afternoon, then
froze, an MATHS train was way late.
He had to hurry, but after he kissed
me good-by, he ran back to me sayin'
'Oh! Maggie, there's gang of hoboes
headin' this way, can't you start for
home early tonight He was so up
set, promised. ! stood wayin' at
him as they pulled out, but my eyes
kinder royed round to keep from
cryin', | hated to see him go. Well,
just then thought | saw face in a
bunch of scrub pines across the track.
] looked sharp, but they were thick,
an | didn't see it again. felt
creepy, as If something was Lidin'
near me, an longed for Matt OF dad.