Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1911-07-20
The Brute and
the Man
By GEORGE CARING

Corners that night, he was unques-
tionably drunk. Hilarious and must
cal when he left his companions at
the village tavern, he became after
the first mile tearfully sentimental;
muttering much to himself about a
certain comrade of his boyhood days,
long since deceased
During the third and last mile, his
hungry and eager horse had plunged
recklessly over the muddy, uneven
road, and Mr.. Schofield, after extricat-
ing himself several times from among
the milk cans in the wagon, had be-
came pugnacious and aggressive.
When he reached his door yard he
was fighting drunk
With many curses and kicks he had
ushered his unlucky horse into its
stall; had cursed his wife for the door
held readily open for him; had or
dered her to pull off his boots, and
had sworn with vigor and originality
at the supper which had been held
In readiness for five hours
Finally, exasperated at finding no
available fighting material, he had
struck the little woman cruelty saw.
age blow-felling her to the floor
and had answered her one piteous
moan with comprehensive, though
somewhat incoherent, lecture on the
duties Of wife and her obligations
to love, honor and obey.
Then he stumbled into the side bed.
room .nd flung himself down without
wasting any precious moments in dis
robing. Five minutes later his heavy
breathing indicated his perfect OBJ
livion of all matrimonial trials
The girl (she was scarcely more)
raised her head There were no
tears, nor sobs, but there was tiny
stream of blood trickling from cruel
cut in her cheek and little pool on
the floor where she had lain.
She raised herself YEARLY to her
feet, and staggering to a chair buried
| her face in her apron-and so sat,
thinking motionless and silent
Presently she arose-took the lamp
from the table. and stepping to the
looking glass by the window, exam.
med her wounded face.
Three years before no sweeter
daintier face-no more bewitchingly
gentle eyes-no merrier dimples
around such smiling mouth had
| been reflected from any mirror in the
township. Even an hour before one
would have had to search far for its
equal-the pathos Of suffering. of un.
told anguish, had as yet but changed
the quality of its prettiness.
At this instant. however, she. her
self. was startled at the reflection
She had never seen that face before.
those hard, set, resentful eyes
those tightly compressed lips-that
resolute mouth. She had never seer
these. although two or three times be
| fore she had looked upon grievously
Scared face. But she remembered
now, almost with little wonderment
that she had already decided how she
should meet this next assault when II
came. She had dismissed, with bit
ter laugh-almost sneer--the
thought of appealing to the law-tha1
abortive. rusty engine of justice and
correction. which fines a drunken
slugger and then sends him back IL
his wife, to exact bitter reprisal 70,
her complaint
No! her remedy was to be more
effective and lasting; bringing com
fort and safety to herself and fai,
punishment to the Brute
Lighting lantern she went to the
| stable, hearing, as she expected, the
eager whinnying of the unfed horse
She threw the welcome oats into the
manger, speaking few caressins
words as she rubbed a rough clotl
over the grateful animals wet back
Then climbing to the loft she threw
down a liberal supply of hay-leanet
her cheek against his for moment
and went back to the house, pickin.
up at the wood pile heavy Ratchet
Cautiously entering the room wher.
the Brute lay in his drunken stupor
she put on a dark, serviceable dress
her best-collected small quantit,
of extra clothing and some littl,
trinkets, bringing them into the kitch
en-, where she packed them into
rusty travelling bag.
| Outside, steady, drizzling raj,
was falling, and she thought of tn
miles of muddy road before her
Packing her shoes in the bag, sh,
pulled on pair of rubber boots
knee-high and contidenceinspiring.
Then she smeared the Ratchet Will
blood from the pool on the floor, an,
clipping off few ends of her brigh
brown hair she sprinkled them on tn
tool. Next she rolled up her blood
stained apron into tight bundle, an,
again taking the lantern went out AM
threw the Ratchet into thicket O
brush near by. The apron she stuffe,
behind beam in the woodhouse.
i Re-entering the kitchen she pickle
up her bag. turned out the light, an
then-paused. Once more, by tn
light of the lantern, she went into tn
bedroom. and after some little scare
emerged again with well-worn wa
let
| She counted the contents onto tn
=