Elmore bulletin. [volume] (Rocky Bar, Idaho) 1889-1906, 1904-08-11

4
| She looked across a shimmering
waste OF barren sand and withered
| buffalo grass, from which the heat
waves radiated until the distance was
hazy with them. A few distorted cac-
| tus plants reared their weird forms in
the heat, and here and there dead
and parched mesquite bush helped to
break the monotony of the scenery.
Affair off, to the southwest, the tops
| of the mountains in Old Mexico could
be seen family, miles and miles away
| She liked to speculate on how pleas
ant 1t was beneath the trees on their
| slopes-w where the cool waters flowed,
the wild flowers blossomed and the
birds sang.
She was tired and utterly weary OF
the whole business. Four long years
she had lived here--she married John
| Hawkins back in the states, and came
| out to the Ell Dorado ranch, where he
was going to make his fortune raising
cattle. He was only foreman and she
was cook for the cowboys. The worst
OF 1t was, she was regarded by him as
scarcely more than cook He would
come home late at night, gup down
an enormous supper, tumble in bed
and snore like a grampus until day
light, when he would bolt his break
fast and start out on the range again.
Not a word of sympathy, of fellow
ship; not bit of tenderness, no SEN
timent, only work, work--left to her
self, her lonely thoughts and the
gloomy contemplation of the dreary
waste without
Sometimes he was away at night
and she had heard him joking with
some of the cowboys about Rita
and then ne would watch her covertly
out of the corner of his eyes to see if
she heard, or understood. But she did
not betray herself, and they went on
talking of ------, where the mescal
and the music and pulque, and women
drove men mad. That was where Rita
stayed Rita was, perhaps pretty
and dainty. Well. maybe Rita did not
have to cookbook, all the time for
lot of men, and wash dishes and
sweep up and prepare for another
meal when one was finished. That
would take the good looks away from
anybody.
And when John had talked of COM
ing west, she had dreamed of cool
adobe houses with splashing fountains
In the patio-of orange and lemon
trees in blossom-of great scarlet
geranium trees and vines and flow.
ers-an indolent, easy "manana sort
of existence. But this, instead. She
looked about the rough plank house
In utter disgust and WEAKNESS.
What was the use of it all? What
did it amount to? What was there TO
look forward to, except a continuation
of the drudgery? And day by day
her youth, her good looks were slip
ping from her, ground into nothing
ness by toll of an unremitting sort.
What was there left for her. now that
she had found out the base clay of
her John-now that love was lead?
She remembered a little verse she
had read somewhere, in her moro i'm
questionable days, and there was
refrain running through 1t at the end
of each stanZa:
and the light of whole life dies.
When love is done"
1t kept ringing in her ears. Just
that much of it. She could not ecail
the rest of the lines
Senora,"
She turned about from the pile of
dirty. greasy dishes and wiped the
perspiration from her red face and
frowsy brow
"Oh, it's you, Rafael? Sit down.
"Yas, Sonora. it me- Senior 'Aw.
kins. e tell me to tell yo' he goner
Fronteras on er business-he not
come back for day or So
All right, Rafael Make yourself
comfortable as you can; Lord Knows
its mighty hot here She liked the
Mexican. He was always the euint-
essence of politeness to her-aptici.