The Arizona copper camp., 1917-12-29
CHAPTER III.


morning in mid April. Marthy gave an
other poke with her elbow and lay still,
numbed by sudden dread. She moved
cautiously out Of the bed and half
across the cramped room before she
turned her head toward him. Then she
stood still and looked and looked, her
hard face growing each moment more
pinched and stony and gray.
Jase had died while the coyotes were
yapping their dawn song up on the rim
Of the cove. He lay rigid under the
coarse, gray blanket, the flesh of his
face drawn close to the bones, his
skimpy, gray beard tilted upward.
Marthy's jaw set into harsher out
line than ever. She dressed with slow,
heavy movements and went out and fed
the stock. In stolid calm she did the
milking and turned out the cows into
the pasture. She gathered an apron
full of chips and started a fire, just as
she had done every morning for, twenty
nine years, and she put the cofeepot
on the greasy stove and boiled the brew
Of yesterday, which was also her habit.
She sat for some time with her head
leaning upon her grimy hand and stared
unseeingly out upon peach tree in
full bloom and at pair of busy robins
who had chosen convenient crotch for
their nest. Finally she rose stiffly, as
If she had grown older within the last
hour, and went outside to the place
where she had been mending the irri-
eating ditch the day before. She knock
ed the wet sand off the shovel she had
left sticking in the soft bank and went
out of the yard and up the slope toward
the rock wall.
On tiny, level place above the main
ditch and just under the wall Marthy
began to dig, setting her broad, fiat foot
uncompromisingly upon the shoulder Of
the shovel and sending it deep into the
yellow soil. She worked slowly and
methodically and steadily, just as she
did everything else. When she had dug
down as deep as she could and still
manage to climb out and had the hole
wide enough and long enough, she got
awkwardly to the grassy surface and
sat for long while upon rock, star
ing dumbly at the gaunt, brown hills
across the river.
She returned to the cabin at last, and,
with the manner of one who breads do
ing what must be done, she went in
where Jase lay stiff and cold under the
blankets.
Early that afternoon Marthy went
staggering up the slope, wheeling Jase's
body before her on the creaky, home
made wheelbarrow. In the same harsh,
primitive manner in which they both
had lived Marthy buried her dead And
though in life she had given him few
words save in command or upbraiding,
with never a hint of love to sweeten the
days for either, yet she went whimper-
ing away from that grave. She broke
off three branches of precious peach
blossoms and carried them up the slope.
She stuck them upright in the lumpy
soil over Jase's head and stood there
a long while with tear streaked face,
staring down at the grave and at the
nodding pink blossoms.
Billy Louise rode singing down the
rocky trail through the deep, narrow
gorge to where the hawthorn and choke
cherries hid the opening to the cove.
From there to the pink drift OF peach
bloom against the dull brown of the
bluff Blue galloped angrily, leaving
Deep black prints in the soft green Of
the meadow. So they came headlong
upon Marthy, just as she was knocking
the yellow clay Of the grave from her
irrigating shovel against the pole fence
Of her pigpen.
N"Why, Marthyw Once before in her
life Billy Louise had seen Marthy's chin
Quivering like that and big, slow tears
sliding down the network Of lines on
Marthy's leathery cheeks. With
painful slump her spirits went heavy
with her sympathy. "Marthy!"
She knew without a word Of expla-
nation just what had happened. From
Marthy's bent shoulders she knew and
from her tear stained face and from
the yellow soil clinging still to the
shovel in her hand. The wide eyes Of
Billy Louise sent seeking glances up
The slope where the soil was yellow;
went to the long, raw ridge under the
wall, with the peach blossoms standing
pitifully awry upon the western end.
Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Mar
thy! When was itY'
''In the night, some time, I guess"
Marthy's voice had harsh huskiness.
He was-gone-when woke up. Well
he's better off than I be. I dunno
what woulda become Of him if I'd went
first" There, at last, was note Of
tenderness, stifed though it was and
deeting. "Git down, Billy Louise, and
come in. I been kinda lookin' for yuh
to come ever sence the weather opened
up. Hows your maw?"
"What are you going to do now, Mar
thy?" Billy Louise was perfectly capa-
Bile of opening a conversational door
even when it had been closed decisively
In her face. "You can't get on here
alone, you know. Did you send for that
nephew? If you haven't you must hire
somebody till"
"He's comm. That letter you sent
pver last month was from him. dunno
when he'll git here; he's liable to come
most any time. I amt going to hire
nobody. Charlie Fox, his name is. I
hope he turns out good worker. I've
never had a chance to git ahead any,
but If Charlie IL jest take holt I'll meb
By git some comfort outa life yit"
'He ought to, I'm sure. And every