The Huttig news., 1909-07-17

brought out his nephew, Lance Dun ming He taught Lance bridge build ing, and Murray Sinclair who began as a cowboy on the Stone ranch, learned bridge building from Richard Cunning The Cummings both eame west, though at different times. as young men and unmarried, and as far as western women were concerned, might always have remained so But a Kentucky cousin. Betty. one of the Fairfield Cummings. related to Richard within the sixth or eighth degree, came to the mountains for her health up as boy. and Betty, when he Jeff Fairfield, was a baby But Dick-as they knew him at home-and the mother wrote back and forth, and he persuaded her to send Betty out for trip, promising he would send her back in year a we'll woman.
 Betty came with only her colored maid, old Fuss Cunning, who had taken her from the nurses arms when she was born and taken care of her ever since. The wo-the tall Ken lucky girl and the bent mammy-ar- rived at the Stone ranch one day in June. and Richard. done then with bridges and looking after his ranch interests, had already fallen violently in love with Betty. She was delicate. but. if those in Medicine Bend who re- membered her said true, lovely creature. Remaining in the mountains was the last thing Betty had ever thought of, but no one, man or woman, could withstand Dick Cunning. She fell quite in love with him the first time she set eyes on him in Medicine Bend, for he was Eery handsome in the saddle, and Betty was fairly wild about horses. So Dick Dunning wooed fond mistress and married her and buried her. and all within hardly more than year
 But in that year they were very happy. never two happier. and when she slept away her suffering she left him, as a legacy, a tiny baby girl. Fuss brought the mite of a creature in its sweddling clothes to the sick mother very, very sick then-and poor Bet ty turned her dark eyes on it. kissed it, looked at her husband and whis- l pered "Dcksie,' and died Dicksie had been Betty's pet name for he, mountain lover. so he father said ths
 child's namc should be Dicksie an
 l-othing else; and his heart broke an
 soon he died Nothing else, storm {
 food, death or disaster had eve
 moved Dick Cunning. then a sir l gle blow killed him. He rodt once in a while over the ranch { great tract by that time of 20 0af acres. all in one body. all under fence up and down both sides Of the big river, in part irrigated swarming vita cattle-none of it stirred Dick anf with little Dicksie in his arms he slept away his suffering
 So DiCksie was left, as her mother had been. to Fuss. while Lance looked after the ranch. swore at the price of cattle. and played cards at Medicine Bend. At ten, Dieksie. as thoroughly spoiled as a pet baby could be by fool nanny, a fond cousin. and galaxy of devoted cowboys. was sent, in spite of crying and fiinging, to far-away convent-her father had planned verything-whcre in many tears she learned that there were oth- CT things in the world besides cattle and mountains and sunshine and tall, broad-baitcd horsemen to swing from their stirrups and pick her hat from the ground-iust to see little Dicksie laugh-when they swooped past the house to the corrals When she came back from Kentucky. her grandmother dead and her schooldays finished. all the land she could see in the valley was hers. and all the living creatures in the fields. It seemed perfectly natural, because since childhood even the distant mountains and their snows had been Dicksie's.
 fTo BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK)