Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1913-10-23

Il will marry David Raml!n." she
answered firmly, 'let him be what he
may"
The man let out his suppressed
breath In a sob of relief. his eyes
Frightening with triumph.
"Oh, Molly! Molly!" he cried. Il
cannot tell you what this all means to
me. There is no past now to my life.
but all future"
Am l that to your N
That! Yes, and a thousand times
more! l had ambition once, opportun-
ity, even wealth. They were swept
away by a mans lie, woman's per-
fidy. Out Of that wreck, crawled into
the world again a mere thing lived
simply because | must live, skulking
in obscurity. my only inspiration the
hope OF an honorable death or an op-
portunity for vengeance. Mine was
the life Of the ranks In the desert, as
sociating with the lowest scum, in
constant contact with savagery. I
could not speak to decent woman.
or be man among men. There was
nothing left me but to brood over
wrongs. and plot revenge. | became
morose. savage, mere creature Of
discipline, food for powder. II was no
more when first met you. But with
that meeting the chains snapped. the
old ambitions of life returned. You
were mere girl from the East; you
did not understand, nor care about the
snobbery of army life. No, 1t was not
that-you were above 1t. You trusted
me, treated me as friend, almost as
an equal. loved you then, when we
parted on the trail, but | went back to
New Mexico to fight fate. It was such
hopeless dream, yet all summer long
l rode with memory tugging at my
heart / grew to hate myself. but
could never forget you"
She drew nearer, her hand upon his
arm, her face uplifted.
"And you thought did not carer"
How could l dream you did?" al.
most bitterly. You were gracious,
kind-but you were a majors daugh-
ter as far away from me as the stars.
/ never heard from you; not even a
rumor OF your whereabouts came to
me across the plains. | supposed you
had returned East; had passed out of
my life forever. Then that night when
we rode into Dodge saw you again
saw you In the yellow lamp light,
watching us pass, heard you ask what
troops those were, and knew In
stantly all my fighting out there in
the desert had been vain-that you
were forever the one. one woman"
81 remained for that" she confessed
softly, her lashes wet,
AT Dodge?" "
Yes, at Dodge. / knew you would
come. must come. Some intuition
seemed to tell me that we should meet
again. oh, was 80 happy thu night
you came! No one had told me your
troop had been ordered In. It was like
a dream come true. When 1 saw you
leading your horse across the parade
could hardly refrain from calling
out to you before them all. did not
care what they thought--for my sol
der had come home from the wars"
Sweetheart" the deep voice falter-
ing. "may-may kiss your"
"Of course you may"
Their lips met, and she chung to him
as his arms held her closely. II was
like dreSm to him, this sudden, un-
expected surrender. Perhaps she read
this in his eyes.
do not misunderstood me-" she
urged softly. II do not come to you
because Of what has happened, be-
cause ] am alone and helpless. II you
had stepped from the ranks that night
at Dodge, | would have answered even
as | do now"
you love me?-love mer' he re-
peated.
Yes"
Even as he looked down upon her
upturned face. there was borne back
upon him a realization OF their pre-
dicament. His eyes swept over the
surrounding desolation, the two dead
bodies lying motionless in the snow.
the stiffening pony, the drear hillside
which shut them In. The sight brought
him back to consciousness with a
shock. Minutes might mean much
now. Dupont had disappeared over
that ridge to the right. In the direction
OF Black Kettles camp How far