Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1916-12-13

silent, moody.
Jennie, I'll be riding off soon.r ne
said, one evening. II can't impose on
this good man Andrews much longer.
I'll never forget his kindness. His
wife, too--she's been so good to us.
Yes, Jennie, you and / will have to
say good-by very soon."
"Don't hurry away" she replied.
Lately Jennie had appeared strange
to him. She had changed from the
girl he used to see at Mrs. BANDS
house. He took her reluctance to say
good-by as another indication Of her
regret that he must 60 back to the
brakes. Yet somehow 1t made him
observe her more closely.
''It's likely that we won't see each
other again." he said. "That's strange
to think Of. We've been through some
hard days, and I seem I'd have known
you long time"
Jennie appeared shy, almost sad, so
Duane change the subject to some
thing less personal.
Andrews returned one evening from
q several days trip to Huntsville.
"Duane, everybody's talkin' about
how you cleaned up the Bland outfit"
he said, important and all full Of news.
"It's some exaggerated, accordin' to
what you told me; but you've shore
made friends on this side of the
Nueces. l reckon there amt town
where you wouldn't find people to
welcome you"
"Did you hear of any outlaws hunt
ing me?" asked Duane.
Nobody from BANDS outfit is hunt
in you, thet's Shore" replied Andrews.
"Fisher said there never was a boss
straddled to 60 on your trail. Nobody
had any use for Bland. Anyhow. his
men would be afraid to trail you. An
you could 60 right in to Huntsville,
where you'd be some popular. Reckon
you'd be safe, too, except where some
of them fool saloon loafers or bad
cowpunchers would try to shoot you
for the glory in it. Them kind of men
will bob up everywhere you go,
Duane"
'Tll be able to ride and take care OF
myself in day or two" went on
Duane. "Then TIL god like to talk
to you about Jennie"
"She's welcome to home here with
u.s.
THANK you, Andrews. You're q
kind man. But want Jennie to get
farther away from the Rio Grande.
She'd never be safe here"
"All right, Duane. Whatever you
think best. I reckon now you'd better
60 north an strike for Shelbyville.
I'll tell Jennie the names of men who'll
help her. You needn't ride into town
1t ALL
At sunset two days later Duane and
Jennie mounted their horses and snid
Rood-by to the rancher and his ri,
Andrews would not listen to Duane's
thanks.
Il tell you I'm beholden to you yet"
he declared.
"Well, what can do for you"
asked Duane. II may come along here
again some day"
Get down an come in. then, or
you're no friend of mine. An good
luck to you bothl"
Duane and Jennie trotted, away into
the gathering twilight. The sky was
overcast with heavy clouds; there was
no air moving; the heat and oppres-
sion threatened storm. BY and by
Duane could not see a rod in front Of
him, though his horse had no difficulty
in keeping to the road. To his an
noyance, however, a fine, misty rain
set In. Jennie was not well dressed
for wet weather; and, for that matter,
neither was he. His coat, which In
that dry warm climate he seldom
needed, was tied behind his saddle.
and he put 1t on Jennie. The night
passed quickly despite the discomfort,
and soon gray, dismal, rainy dawn
greeted the travellers.
Jennie insisted that he find some
shelter where fire could be built to
dry his clothes. He was not in fit
condition to risk catching cold. In
fact, Duane's teeth were chattering
To find shelter in that barren waste
seemed a futile task. Quite unex-
pectedly, however, they happened upon
a deserted adobe cabin situated little
off the road. Not only, did it prove
to have dry interior, but also there
was firewood. Water was available in
pools everywhere; however. there was
no grass for the horses.
A good fire and hot food and drink
changed the aspect of their condition
as far as comfort went.
Jennie slept while Duane watched.
The saving Of this girl meant more
to him than any task he had ever as
sumed.
AS he looked down upon her,
slight, slender girl with bedraggled
dress and disheveled hair, her face,
pale and quiet, little stern In sleep,
and her long, dark lashes lying on her
cheek, e seemed to see her fragility,
her prettiness, her femininity as never
before. But for him she might at
that very moment have been a broken,
ruined girl lying back In that cabin Of
the Blands. The fact gave. him feel
Ing of his Importance in this shifting
Of her destiny. She was unframed,
still young; she would forget and be
happy she would live to be a good
wife and mother. Somehow the
=, n.l,k r,,,o1loA At1 1900 IJa. =