Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1917-04-19
of her mind

Of her mind.
There was no movement of surprise
neither was there any answer. 81
supposed, when l found you here, you
knew that" she aided less resolutely
the darkness and silence We're plainly
a strain. You are at the foot of Mu-
sic mountain, about a mile from where
l live
You must have thought meant to
raid your house. l didn't I was hit.
l got mixed up in trying to get away.
You want me out of here?"
Very much"
mo more than 1 want TO get out.
Perhaps by tomorrow 1 could walk a
few miles. l should have to assassi-
nate somebody to get some ammuni-
ton"
1T wouldn't be hard for you to do
that I presume"
Her words and her tone revealed the
intensity of her dislike and the depth
of her distrust.
He was silent for q moment. Then
he said, without resentment, "You are
ashamed already of saying that, aren't
your"
mo, am not" she answered de-
family.
Eyes, you are. You know it isn't
true. If you believed it, you never
would have brought food here to save
my life"
Il brought it to save some of my
own people from possible death at
your hands-to prevent another fight
to see if you hadn't manhood enough
after being helped, to go away, when
you were able to move, peaceably. One
cartridge might mean one life, dear
to me-"
Il know whose life you mean"
you know nothing about what /
mean"
Il know better than you know your
self, If l believed you, l shouldn't
respect you. Fear and mercy are two
different things. If l thought you
were only afraid of me, l shouldn't
think much of your aid. Listen-I
never took the life Of any man except
to defend my own"
mo murderer that ever took any
body's life in this country ever said
anything but that"
Don't class me with murderers.''
"You are known from one end of the
country to the other as a gunman."
He answered impassively: did
these men who call me a gunman ever
tell you why I'm one?" She seemed
in too hostile a mood to answer. Il
guess not" he went on. Let me tell
you now. The next time you hear me
called a gunman you can tell them.
Il won't isten," she exclaimed, res
tive.
eyes, you will listen" he said qui-
city; you shall hear every word. My
father brought sheep into the Peace
river country. The cattlemen picked
on him to make an example of. He
went out, unarmed, one night to take
care of the horses. My mother heard
two shots. He didn't come back. She
went to look for him. He was lying
under the corral gate with a hole
smashed through his jaw by a rifle
bullet that tore his head half off. De
Spain did not raise his voice, nor did
he hasten his words. 81 was born
one night six months after that" he
continued. MY mother died that
nj h+ irrh
me from her arm and wrapped me in a
blanket, she saw l carried the face
of my father as my mother had seen
it the night he was murdered. That"
he said, lis what made me a 'gunman.
Not WhiSky-nOt WOmen-nOt cards
just what you've heard. And I'll tell
you something else you may tell the
men that call me gunman. The man
that shot down my father at his corral
gate l haven't found yet. 1 expect to
find him. For ten years I've been get
ting ready to find him. He is here
in these mountains. I don't even
know his name. But if 1 live, I'll find
him. And when I do, I'll tear open his
head with a soft bullet in the way he
tore my fathers open. After [ get
through with that man'-he hesitat-
ed-"they may call me whatever they
like. You want me out of the gap"
De Spain concluded, his voice IN
changed. 81 want to get out. Come
back, once more, in the daytime.
will see what I can do with my foot
by that time" He paused. "Wil you
Gomez"
She hesitated. 1T would be too
dangerous for me to come up here in
the daytime. Trouble would follow"
Come at dusk. You know 1 am
no murderer"
Il don't know it," she persisted stub
bornly. 1t was her final protest.
Count, some day, on knowing it."