The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1913-11-06
CHAPTER n--(Continuedl

you would. He added apologetically:
"She thought you would"
Wiley shrugged. Old friends can say
much and hurt little.
why the blazes," resumed Rube,
don't you marry her YETI You and
your old shop! Then you'd make a
living. IL she'd married me. I'd been
batting 400. Now see I'm a busher
and going down.
Wiley sat listening. II suppose. he
murmured. like a man who relishes his
anticipation. u draws back from It's
ends. He had swung the circle OF the
west. like most or the Midland young
men. demonstrating In Dakosa. min
Ing. timber cruising, selling real estate.
running country pagers, leading for
lorn hopes OF impossible refOrrns IN the
wide open camps OF Nevada and Mon
tana, fruit raising on the MRtagorda
coast OF Texas. exploiting reclamation
projects In Louisiana--aiways the IN
thusiast, the dreamer. gaining. for him
self nothing at all except the ardor OF
the game--the mighty and expiring
drama OF the old west In the sos he
had seen and lived and exuited In: free
footed ana shiftleSs for 16 years he had
missed nothing of the last OF the great
days. He had written NICE Of the ANAL
roundup In n southwestern cattle
country and Its epic note had aroused
the magazine makers for Its brilliance
n Its pathos. A dying flame with
the life IL celebrated. He had done
nothing more; he was back I'm the old
town. and merely Curran OF the News.
He looked from Janet vance's Office
window to- his shop. a long one story
building. implanted. gray, hike a worm
that had crawled hungrily down from
the bluff to High street, to stare mt the
court house from It's two grimy win
dows. You would never rave thought
that out Of this lethargic m0nster came
more contraband opinions. and into 1t
more unpaid bills than any print shop
In Iowa. %
Over the lawn from the basement
jail came q man who smelied OF car
bolic acid. The town kids knew he
was O 'trusty" that some OF the
prisoners came every day to get the
exchanges from the News office. The
fumtgated one spoke pleasantly to the
editor and went In for the papers. He
rummaged the editors desk, opened a
drawer and flied his pipe from the edi-
tors tobacco. and came out. In the
money but the Jailbird did not touch
them--that wouldn't have been playing
square with Wiley"
Rube watched him 20 back to the
court house jail. Around the square
lights were coming now and then;
from Dickinson's grocery, the Hub
Clothing house with its Isenbaum g.
Kickenheinner clothes from New York;
h Palace Of Sweets, with d departing
group OF high school girls. and q
tryman gazing In the window mill
pond at the gold fish: the First Ma
tional bank with the gilt legend, Van
Hart q Donley," above the c0rnice,
and before II the historic htching post
with the lead bullet implanted In the
nnnnarhaaA rfOf n@ bHQ--nrnoy anA rnym.
monplace It might be, but how dear
and familiar RAJ It all.
Even Wiley r. Curran. the towns
insurgent knew II, now that he was
back, o BIT era about the temples
after years on the great highway be-
yond the everlasting hills.
Rube voiced the curious call OF home
coming. tits funny how some times
the two schnitaler boys and Morrf-
son-ain't he in the bank now1 And
you and me-Onre Hen McFsetrtdge
bRtted q fly clean UP In the court
house clock and stopped II for six
Hnonths-remember7 And the night
W. was stealing Tanners grapes, and
woman, and they pinched you're
memberf What's Thad Tanner doing
now ~
'stIll running the county board,
soaking us on bridge contracts"
Same little old boss, chr And
Boydston and Curry-stIl on the
board and putting Tanners work
througha"
And old Mowry. the undertakes.
still living across from the widow
Steger's and watching for the old
lady to die. eh?" Ja
"Yes-still buying his groceries OF
Dickinson, the old lady,s nephew.
though he hates him worse'n poison,
because he tigures on getting the case
when she passes. Yes; s~ir--seyen
inson's waiting for the widow to pass.
and every week they expect her to
go, and she hangs n
MI Rube looked across at the widows
garden, Its cannas and fire bush bril-
liant In the dusk. Suffering johnson,
don't anybody ever die here. Wiiey?'
mo. IL they did the News would
have n linotype, RUDE. and be a daily.
And the old town would have street
lights and sidewalks. Look Mt Earl
VILE with It's factories sprtnging up,
and the way they're opening up the
soft coal streaks on the upper creek.
Why we could have had all that IL
people here had allowed the railroad
to come in. They chased away a $50
600 canning plant last spring because
they didn't want q factory class In
Rome. l came pretty near suspend
ing publication when I heard that
What Rome needs IL o few ftrEt
class funerals, Wiley
"You bet" prayed the editor fer
yently.
wiley" rnurmured Rube, "you get
out the r~ottenest paper in Iowa, and
the old town 1t has no OF Use
for you, but / like you. You amt bait
ting anywhere near 800, but You a
carry bats. I'm coming up to supper
tonight"
"Sure thing. Rube." The editor
glanced to. the back OF his lot where
the cottage light was glowing. His
old honsekeeper was always prepared
for guests, for to Mr.. Curran's table
came every unknown itinerant Of the
road, shy farmers from the backwoDdn
bottoms Of the north side OF the coun-
ty, blacklisted railroad men from the
Chicago strikes, any one, In fact who
had no welcome elsewhere.
The editor languidly snapped his
watch. The pressmen had long nm
!. ished with the paper, and although the
p~ettifogger's pleading still came from
che court the warm 6~epternbeE
dusk had fallen. Somewhere up the
49, n A-A-