The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1905-01-27

country, an the ole woman
an me was about as close to
it as anybody. -
You see, young Murray had cene to
our ranch to board an get shet of
bad case of wornout nerves. Every
mornin' he'd go off trampin' with his
rod an his pipe, an mostly we wouldn't
see him till night. Well, one mornin'
he'd fished up stream from both banks
an from powders in the middle, an
before noon he was tuckered out an
ready to set down under willow tree
an eat the grub the ole woman had
fixed up for him.
All of q sudden, comm over the raise
benin him, he hears the thud of hoofs.
He'd read of stampedin' herds, an he
shins up that tree lively.
When he looks down from his perch,
he sees comm down the slope kid
a-horseback. He's bareheaded, an he
bends so far over his mop of yeller
hair most touches his little mares
black name. Right benin him, a-yellin'
an a-ridin' like mad, comes man.
He's standin' up straight in his stir
rups, with the very devil in his face,
an swingin over his head, a-cuttin'
the air like a whiplash, is wicked
lookin' brandin' iron.
The kids maxim for the river, but
the little mare stumbles on some loose
stones an throws the youngster full
length. Somethin' tells Murray the
devil on horseback II brain that kid if
he gets the chance, but before Murray
can let out a yell or make move
there's a sharp report, the ping of a
bullet, an, sir, down goes that brandin'
iron, kerslap, an without a word the
man sways an slides off his horse.
While Murray's pullin' himself to-
gether the kids on his feet, swingin'
from side to side like fellow with one
drink too many. When he stands be-
side the man he's killed, he locks a
mite of a young I'm to send fellow
straight into the Bad Lands without a
word of warnin'. BY an by the little
mare comes up out of the river an
stands shiverin' an whinnyin'. She
wants her little master all right, but
she amt goin' near that body. Then
the kid turns roun' an lays his head on
the mares back an sobs fit to kill, not
sobs like fear nor sorrow, but jus,
pentup Misty let loose
At last he swings on to his mare an
rides off over the hill. Murray slips
down an hurries to the body, thinkin'
somethin' might be done for the poor
devil. But it's all overnight through
the heart, as pretty bit of marksman-
ship as you could expect from boy
born an raised on the plains. So Muir
ray takes handkerchief an spreads it
over. the mans face-a face hard in
life an horrible in death.
Then he hears voices. There's two
men an woman comm over the hill.
The men jabber away in Swede, but
the woman JUS sets rockin' an moan
in on log close to the body. Once
the men raise the handkerchief, an she
takes one long, shudderin' look at the
upturned face. Murray said he could
read in that look all the horrors of a
lifetime of degradation an hardship.
At last the men rode off after the
coroner an sheriff, leavin' Murray set
tin with the woman. Eight miles
them fellows had to ride for the oil
GERS, but before they'd reached Roarin'
Branch corner Murray, in his quiet,
persuadin' way, had the woman drop
her apron from her face an she was
talkin' in her queer mixture Of Swede
an 'Merican. What she told of her
life an her children's with the man
stretched at her feet was somethin'
Murray never liked to talk about, only
he said that for nights afterward he
couldn't sleep natural.
Anyhow, when the officers an the
hired men came back, with cowboys
an ranchmen at their heels, Murray
told 'em he'd been engaged by the
widow to defend her son, Nels Jensen,
ON the charge of murderin' his own
father.
Everybody said the case ought to
gone to ole Colonel Bloomer. He'd
been the leadin' lawyer of these parts
for years an was always on the side
that had the most money. He'd sent
more men over the road to Canon City
while he was district attorney an kept
more from goln' there when he wasn't
than any lawyer in San Juan. Besides,
he'd fought in the civil war an wore
a wooden han, an when the Roarin'
Branch guards was formed he headed
the subscription for uniforms. All San
Juan agreed that ole Colonel Bloomer
was the only man that could save Nels
Jensen from the gallows or long term
AT Canon City.
It wasn't no cinch OF case. The kid
was only fifteen, one of them quiet,
stubborn natures common enough
among Swedes. but mighty aggravatin'
to 'Mericans. His father had been
square enough, paid his taxes regular,
never anneXin' calves that probably be-
longed to his neighbors an payin' cash
at the Roarin' Branch store. But Muir
ray didn't seem TO be worryin'. He
kept on fislin' an trampin' an gettin'
latter an. better tanned every day.
Djsfrict court SET early that year