The Elbert County tribune., 1914-03-13

The pages 6ro yeuOWs tno INK - ru1V
brown. but the past Is alive in every
line, the living past the sunny warm
scented land Of memory. all full Of
love and glory and delight. and agony
which cannot be taken from me.
| How wonderful 1t il to think that .
great lady, and this ig-orant callous
| brute shown up in the rotted manu-
script, should ever have been man and
wife together! When l think of what !
was-illiterate. slovenly. lazy, selfish.
brutal, meanly Jealous. ignorantly
cruel. see how It was right that she
should leave me. It. has taken me
bitter lonely years to realize that l
was unworthy to be her servant while
she tanned me. So much the greater
mystery is the love which made
amends for my shortcomings. made
her think me better than l was. a
something for which she sacrificed her.
self, and In self sacrifice became like
the great angels which she saw In
dreams.
Then came the letter from Polly her.
self. which sent me crazy. SO that my
lady read every word of it. without
being warned.
Opium. Jesse, an overdose of opium
did the trick. and paint to make me
look like a corpse, and blood from the
butchers shop poured over my face as
| laid there. You was no husband for
such as me with Brooke around. the
man I'd kept. Shucks. did ye think I'd
be such a puke as to set, with yer
dead-line round me. screaming II men
came near. with all Abilene grinning.
and you drunk as Noah? That was no
way to treat a lady. That was no
cinch for me as could buy cowboys, all
I'd mind to. Pshaw. 1t makes me
sick at the stummick to think / mar
ried you | only done 1t for joke.
But you Jest mark my words on the
dead thieving, no foreign woman from
London. England. shall have you
while you're mine. heerd of this Mrs.
Trevor daring to call you her husband.
She's not your wife. she's not Mrs.
Jesse Smith. she's not married wom-
an, but poor thing, and her child,
what's he? I've had my revenge on
her. and you, and I'm coming to rub 1t
in. I'm at Ashcroft, / am, coming on
the same coach as this letter, coming
to live in your home. II | don't love
you. no other woman shall. It's Fancy
Brooke. the man you calls Bull Dur
ham, what give you dead away, he. and
the news he got by mail, since you let
him get of alive, you fool That
ought to splash yer.
And II | didn't love. dye reckon
that I'd care?
Your deserted true wife,
POLLY SMITH.
"P. S.-I'll be to your ranch Mon
day"
Kate's Narrdttpe.
My husband was still at dinner when
we heard horseman come laundering
in, the old cargador. Pete Mathson,
spurring weary horse across the
yard. Jesse took the letter, and while
he read, had a strange awful i'm
preston of days. months, years pass
ing. a whirlwind Of time. My man
was growing old before my eyes, and
1t is true that within few hours his
hair was flecked with silver. When
the letter fell from his hands he
walked away. making no sound at all
sat on my little stool and took the
letter The paper felt like something
very offensive. so that | had to force
myself to read and even then without
understanding one word, ! went and
washed my hands and face, why
don't know. except that 1t was better
not to make a scene. | came back to
my stool
Pete stood in the doorway very nerv-
GUS about his hat. as though he tried
to hide it away. / remember telling
him quite gravely that like to see a
hat
Cap Taylor. ma am" he was saying.
told me to get here by the horse trail.
SO / rode hellfor-leather. They'll be
another hour comm by road"
Another hour?"
"A strangers driving. Mebbe more'n
an hour
Then Jesse came back.
Jesse's N1rratfpe.
found my lady seated on her stool,
that letter in her hands, while Pete,
uneasy, clicked his spurs in the door
way. 1 asked If he'd take message
Burning the trail.'' he said.
Say. If she comes, I'll kill her."
L. r. /