The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1909-07-04


his chair and as he spoke, he spoke
magnanimously. He doesn't like me,
but that is no fault of his railroad
men, and good ones. too. sometimes
get started wrong with one another.
Well. I'm glad he took care of you.
Try that piano. Miss Dicksie, VIII you?
I don't know much about pianos, but
that ought to be a good one. / would
wheel the player over for you, but
any one that plays as beautifully as
you do ought not to be allowed TO use
a player. Marion, 1 want to talk few
minutes with you, may /? Do you MIND
going out under the cottonwood? q
Dicksie's heart jumped. Don't be
gone long. Marion" she exclaimed, i'm
pulsively, for you know. Mr.. Sinclair,
we must get back by o'clock And
Dicksie, pale with apprehension, looked
at them both. Marion, quite composed,
nodded Teassuringly and followed Sim
clair out of doors into the sunshine.
Fer a few minutes D1cksie fingered
wildly on the piano at some half-for-
gotten air and in a fever of excite
ment walked out on the porch TO see
where they were. To her relief, she
saw Marion sitting near Sinclair I'm
der the big tree in front of the house,
where the horses stood. Dicksie, with
her hands on her girdle, walked for
4OI lily Udlh anu AOLLll uUEllilt4 n LulANf
sat down iu q rocking chair, famed
herself. rose. walked back and forth
again. and reflected that she was per-
fectly helpless. and that Sinclaim might
/ kill Marion a hundred times before she
could reach her. And the thought that
Marion was perhaps wholly unconscious
Of danger increased her anxiety.
She sat down in despair. How could
| Whispering Smith have allowed any
one he had a care for to be exposed in
that dreadful way? Trying to think
what TO do, Dicksie hurried back TO
the living room. walked to the piano,
| took the pile of sheet music from the
/ top, and sat down to thumb it over.
She threw song after song on the
chair beside her. They were sheets
of gaudy coon songs and ragtime with
fiaTing covers, and they seemed to
give off OdOrs of cheap perfume. Dick
sic hardly saw the titles as she passed
them over, but Of a sudden she
stopped. Between two sheets Of music
lay a small handkerchief. 1t was
mussed, and in the corner of it Mel
lie" was written cOnspicuOusly in a
laundry mark. The odOr Of musk be-
came in an instant sickening. Dicksie
threw the music disdainfully aside
and sprang up with a flushed face to
/ leave the room. SinClair's remark
about the first woman to cross his
threshold came back to her From
that moment Dicksie hated him. But
no sooner had she seated herself on
the porch than she remembered she
had left her hat in the house. and
rose to go after it. She was re-
solved not to leave it under the roof
another moment, and she had resolved
to go over and wait where her horse
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 it's 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 it 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 look
ing straight at her, and in her anxiety
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 I'm the shade mend
ing a saddle. He had removed his belt
to work, and his revolver lay in the
holster on the bench. its grip Just
within reach of his hand. Dicksfe
walked in front of him, but he did not
| look up. She turned as if changing her
mind, and with a little f1irt of her rid
| ing skirt sat down in the porch chair,
feeling a faint moisture upon her fore
head.
4 am going to leave this country.
Marion" Sinclair was saying. There's
nothing here for me; I can see thar.
What's the use Of my eating my heart
| out over the way I've been treated
I've given the best years of my life to
/ this railroad, and now they turn me
down with a kick and a curse. It's
the old story of the Indian and his
dog, only I don't propose TO let them
make soup Of me. I'm going to the
coast, Marion I'm going to California.
where 1 wanted to go when we were
married. and 1 wish TO God we had
gone there then. All our troubles
might never have been if I had got in
with different crowd from these cow
boOzers on the start. And. Marion. I
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
looking at his wife. Marion, in a hick-
DRY chair faced him.
NO one would like 10 see you be ali
YOU ought to be more than I, Murray:
but you are the only one in the world
/ that can ever give yourself another
chance TO be that"
THE fellows i'm the saddle here now
| have denied me every chance 10 make
g man of myself again on the railroad
you know that Marion. In fact.
they never did give me the show I was
entitled to. I ought to have had Hal
/ ley's place. Bucks never treated me
right in that; ne never pushed me in
the way he pushed other men that
were just as bad as I ever was. It
discouraged me; that's the reason
went to pieces"
1t could be no reason for treating me
as you treated me, for bringing drunk
/ en- men and drunken women into our
/ house, and driving me out Of it unless
/ I would be what you were and what
/ they were"
/ Il know I haven't treated you right:
D A-.-T che