The citizen. [volume] (Berea, Ky.) 1899-1958, 1909-11-11
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| * y By RANKH.SpEARMAN 81
evSag-o ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANDRE BoELEs o-sSs@@A@z,e
RANKH.SPEARMAN.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANDRE BOELES
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| was tied. AS she re-entered the door
way she stopped. In the room she had
Just left a cowboy sat at the table
taking apart a revolver to clean It.
The revolver was spread In its parts
before him. but across the table lay
a rife. The man had not been In the
room when she left It a moment be-
fore. .
Dicksie passed behind him. He paid
no attention to her: he had not looked
up when she entered the room. Pass
ing behind him once more to go out.
Dicksie looked through the open win
dow before which he sat. Sinclair and
Marion sitting under the cottonwood
tree were in plain sight. and the muz-
zle OF the rifle where 1t lay covered
them. Dicksie thrilled, but the man
was busy with his work Breathing
! deeply, she walked out on the porch
again. Sinclair, she thought, was
looking straight at her, aud in her anx-
iety to appear unconscious she turned,
walked to the end of the house, and
at the corner almost ran into a man
sitting out of doors in the shade mend
ing a saddle. He had removed his belt
60 work, and his revolver lay in the
is-lster on the bench. its grip Just
wfhin reach of his hand. Dicksie
watEed in front of him. but he did not
look vp. She turned as IL changing
her miIri, and with a little fiirt of her
riding skirt sat down in the porch
chair. feeling a faint moisture upon
her fofehead.
Il an going to leave this country,
Marion" Sinclair was saying. There's
nothing here for me; can see that.
What'r the use of my eating my heart
out over the way I've been treated?
I've gITen the best years of my life to
this railroad, and now they turn me
down with a kick and a curse. It's
the cd story OF the Indian and his
dog. only don't propose to let them
make soup of me. I'm going to the
coast Marion. I'm going to California.
wherN l wanted to go when We we're
married, and l wish to God we had
gone there then. All our troubles
might never have been IL had got In
With different crowd from these cow
booSers on the start. And. Marion.
want to know whether you'll give me
another chance and go with me-"
Sinclair, on the bench and leaning
Against the tree. sat with folded arms
loosing at his wife. Maripn in
hickory chair faced him.
No one would like to see you be all
ycu ought TO be more than l. Murray;
bat you are the only one in the world
tnat can ever give yourself another
chance to be that"
THE fellows in the saddle here now
have denied me every chance to make
: man of myself again on the railroad
you know that, Marion. In fact,
they never did give me the show / was
entitled to. l ought to have had
Hailey'S place. Bucks never treated
me right in that; he never pushed me
in the way he pushed other men that
were just as bad as / ever was. II
discouraged me; that's the reason /
went to pieces"
1T could be no reason for treating me
as you treated me; for bringing drunk
house, and driving me out of It unless
/ would be what you we're and what
they were"
Il know l haven't treated you right;
I've treated you shamefully. | will do
anything on earth you say TO square
1t. l will! Recollect, / had lived
among men and in the same country
with women like that for years before
knew you. l didn't know how to
treat you; / admit it. Give me anoth-
er chance. Marion"
II gave you all that | had when
married you, Murray. / haven't any
thing more to give to any man. You
would be disappointed in me il | could
ever live with you again. and l could
not do that without living lie every
day"
He bent forward, looking at the
ground. He talked Of their first meet
Ing in Wisconsin; OF the happiness OF
their little courtship; he brought up
California again, and the northwest
coast. where. he told her, a great rail- |
road was TO be built and he should find |
the chance he needed to make record |
for himself-it had been promised him |
"a chance to be the man his abilities |
entitled him to be in raiiroading. "hnd !
I've got a customer for the ranch aud |
the cows, Marion. don't care for |
this business-damn the cows. lot |
somebody else chase after 'em through |
the sleet. I've done well; I've made |
money-a lot Of money-the last two
years in my cattle deals, and I've got |
it put away. Marion; you need never
lift your hand to work in our house |
again. We can live In California, and |
live well. under our own orange trees,
whether ! work or not. All want to |
know Ia. will you go with nle?"
mo! l will not go with you, Muir
ray"
He moved In his seat ard threw his
head up appeaiingly. why not?"
Il will never be dishonest with you;
| never have been and / never will be.
I have nothing in my heart IN giva