The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1914-02-27
RIDING FOR A WIFE.
(By Ada v. Hall.O

(By Ada V. Hall)
Life in southern Idaho thirty years
ago was not what it is today. There
were no cities and few towns. About
every twenty or thirty miles there
were very small villages where some
enterprising soul kept dry goods and
grocery stored combined, a saloon, a
post office and a dance hall, and do
mated grudgingly to the school that
was taught through the summer
months by some tenderfoot who
came west for the benefit of his
health and bank account.
In those days the man with the lar
geSt herd of cattle and saddle horses
and the largest number of cowboys
was THE MAN, and was considered
authority on all questions of great i'm
portance regardless of his education
or natural ability.
AT that time the Circle &c" COM
pany was the largest property owners
and the smallest tax payers in the
country. The company consisted of
Mr.. Golman and his daughter. Mary
Golman was the best rider, the best
dancer and the prettiest girl in the
roundup.
Most of the young men were lust
little afraid of the boss, and more
than little afraid of the bosses
daughter. But Albert Mead, or Bron-
co Al, as the boys called him, was
afraid of neither. Al was the hand
soonest man that rode the range; he
could swing the best rope, shoot the
quickest and straightest, dance the
best and make love with more ardor
than any of the boys-all famous for
their courage and art in the perfor-
nance of such manly stunts. Al had
never been let down but once and
that was when he first came to the
Golman camp. He had boosted that
he could ride anything on the range.
Then the boys, always eager for sport,
brought in the pinto outlaw-a pref
ty, clean-limbed creature, dark brown,
with six large white spots on his sides
He stood like a lamb while they
saddled and bridled him, but when Al,
with leap and a yell like a wild In
dian, settled into the saddle, the horse
went up in the air, turned around and
kicked both Stirrups and AIS boot
heels over the corral fence and when
he came down AL was lying in the
dust on his face wondering how it
happened.
TRY him again" the boys all cried.
But Al shook his head and smiled
sadly as he replied, mo, thank you,
the looks of him makes me sick at
my stomach"
And mid hail of shouts and laugh
ter the released pinto trotted back to
the mountains to remain the uncon-
quered outlaw.
This was one reason why Al had
such whipped child expression as
he left the Golman one evening late
in June.
An hour earlier he had walked in
with the light careless assurance of an
Idaho cowboy. He had gone direct
ly to the point in the most frank and
manly manner.
"Mr. Golman," he said, Il have
come to ask you for your daughter.
Will you give her to me?"
Imagine his chagrin when the old
man laughed long and loud and then
answered; well, young Teller, / like
that; like your nerve. Suppose |
should give my gal to you where
would you live an how would you
support her? l recken you know that
all she knows is to dance an ride an
how much better off are you? l amt
got no use for son-in-law who
works for wages nowadays. If you
wanted Mary, an Mary wanted you,
why amt you been out with your
iron gettin' your share of the MAYER
ickS an fantails that have made so
many men rich up here in the noun
tains ?-No sir, no common one horse
COW puncher can have my daughter.
You gotter show that you're good for
somethin' besides workin' for a boss.
Why, good Lord, young Teller, you
amt deservin' of the name you an
swer to-Bronco Alan that pinter
sneezin' around out there in the hills
"a Twin reminder of your stayin'
qualities. | say no! you can't have
her"
With a very heavy heart Al left
the house and walked toward his
| horse.
But Mr.. Golman hurried after him,
nuttering as he went: mo use not
havin' all the fun out of this there is
in it. Here, AL" he called, wait a
minute, l got bargain to make with
YOU"
every we'll, Mr.. Golman, but talk
fast, please, as l am in a hurry" Al
said, "and before you say any more
| wish to tell you that | want my
time"
THE hell you do? What 'er yer
goin' to dor Mr.. Goldman shouted.