The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1909-08-18
Yates Ranch.
By HERO STRONG.

pulleQ UP MS horses Oh Tue plateau W
get their wind, before beginning the
descent into the gulch, through which
the perilous mountain road ran in a
narrow track of white dust, fringed
by wild %sagebrush and chapparral.
"Reckoned everybody knowed the
story of Yates Ranch?"
reminded the driver that for four
years I had been in Europe, and that
this was my first trip overland to Cal
ifornia. It was in 40, long before a
Pullman car had been dreamed of,
, and while the great railway, which
now stretches from sea to sea, was a
magnificent scheme yet unborn in the
busy brains of its projectors, who at
that time were careless s~choolboys,
doubtless, intent on tops and balls,
and kites with %stupendous tails.
Every traveller of that time knows
the dismal track which had to be
crossed in the overland journey
mostly on the backs of mules, but
sometimes for a little distance on the
top of numbering coaches, every lurch
VI MAlCu 0CCIuCu W "lShSu oSoy ~
soul apart, to say nothing of the i'm
minent risk of broken backs and necks
by being hurled over some yawning
precipice.
Yates Ranch was one Of the very
few human habitations we had passed
during the last three days, but no
smoke assembled from its chimney,
and the wild mountain bushes grew
On the rude doorstep. 1t was evident
ly u%ninhabited. For want Of some
thing better to say I had suggested as
much to old Saunders, the driver. I
knew by the expression on his face
that there was a story. I passed my
pipe along to him. Nothing like the
influence of tobacco to loosen a mans
tongue.
Come, old fellow" said I, "let's
hear the whole of it."
Saunders drew a meditative Whit
or two, and started his horses.
"Stiddy there, Digby," said he.
whoa, Satan. Drat the %critter, he
alters SHES at that heap of stones, and
no wonder, for that's the grave of a
murderer, stranger"
Here Saunders blew out a mouthful
of smoke in my face, whipped in his
leaders and regarded the distant
snow-clad peaks of the Sierras with a
e~ontemplative eye.
Reckon we'll have snow afore
many days, stranger. The air shaves
like a razor"
But about the murderer's grave,
old fellow"
"Oh! ali! wall, it's a niceish sort of
a place for a Teller of that kind to put
hisself under. Good lookout, If he
should fancy to rise up and take a
squirt around. Snug, too, with
bushes all around. and doosed handy
to where she's buried, too, if that's
any object"
Saunders took a slight pull at a
and after rendering the vile smelling
stuff to me, and smiling with evident
satisfaction at my refusal, he began
his story.
"Five years ago last June Tom
Yates cum here from New York. His
wife was along with him. None of
your second class trash about them.
Both Of 'em was upper crust clean
through. The woman, she was as
handsome as a picter, with a red on
the clouds about shutdown, and a
fash in her eyes that no diamonds I
ever seed could begin to hold a candle
to. She was a regeler high stopper
like that off leader there-jest the
kind Of woman for women folks to
hate like pisen, and for men to 60
crazy over. She had piles of dresses
and jewels, and I've seer her, dressed
like a queen, cooking Yates supper
of hominy and venison, and never los
ing her dignity a particle.
Yates he was n of them quiet,
still tongued chaps that a body can't
find out much about, but he loved his
wife to distraction, and couldn't
skeercely bear her out of his sight.
His eyes follered her all the time, and
he'd fly to help her about anything he
could do, jest as if he was her lover
instid of her husband. And he was a
mighty handy man about a house.
HE had a claim back there on that
yer hill that we've passed-a sort of
a rich 'un, too; and as it was more'n
he could work he staked some of it
of and sold it out in lots to other
parties. So that at one time there
was quite a smartish little village
Yates Ranch.
"One dark, stormy night a couple
OF strangers rid up to the ranch and
wanted to see Yates. 1 was laid up
with the rhumatiz then, and was stay
irg a few days at Yates, for he was a
charitable fellow, and I had neither
kith nor kin. l couldn't move hand
nor foot for the cussed pain, but
could see and hear sharp enuff. The
twae strangers came in and throwed
off their wet coats. Mrs. Yates was a
stopping over the fire baking the ban
nocks for supper when they came in.
She riz up slowlyand looked at them.
Never shall I forget the way that sun
set red went out of her face. She