The Monticellonian., 1918-04-12
CHAPTER XII.
The Brave Buckaroo.

The Brave Buckaroo.
 Boise, Ida, Dec. 9.
 Brave Buckaroo-I wonder if you ever in your whole life got a Christmas pres ent? I've been cultivating the Louise of me, and here are the first fruits of my endeavor-I guess that's the way they say it. I've spent so much time sitting by mommie when she's asleep and l get tired of reading all the time, so nurse in this ward-mommie has a room to herself. Of course, but not a special nurse, because l can do a lot of the little things. Well, the nurse taught me how to hemstiteh. So I got some silk and made some nice soft neckerchefs-one for you and one for me.
 This one I made last. l didn't want your eagle eyes seeing all the bobby stitches on the first one. l hope you like it, Ward. Every stitch stands for thought of the hills and our good times. I've brought Minervy back to life. and l try to play my old pretends sometimes. But they always break up into pieces. m not kid now, you see. And life is lot different when you get out into 1t, isn't it ? Mommie doesn't seem to get much bet ter I'm worried about her. She seems to have let go, somehow. She never talks about the ranch much or even worries about whether Phoebe is keeping the win dows washed. She talks about when she was a little girl and about when she and daddy were first married. It gets on my nerves to see how she has slipped out of everyday life. The nurse says that's con- mon, though, in sickness. She says 1 could go home and look after things for a week or so just as well as not She says mommie would be all right But I hate to leave her.
 I'm awfully homesiek for a good old ride on Blue. I miss him terribly. Have you seen anything of the cove folks lately? ilya I'm n1a nf,t of ha world I hate town, anyway. and a hospital is the limit for dismalness. Even the Louise of me is getting ready to do something aw- full if have to stay much longer. Nom mic sleeps most of the time. l believe they dope her with something. She doesn't have that awful pain so bad So 1 don't have anything to do but sit around and read and sew and wait for her to wake up and want something.
 And this is Christmas almost. l won- der what you'll be doing. Say. Ward. If you want to be perfect jewel of man send me some of that jerlSy you've got hanging at the head of your bunk. l swiped some that last time I was there. It would taste mighty good to me now, after all this hospital truck.
 Well, a merry Christmas, Pal-o'mine, and here's hoping you and mommie and l will be eating turkey together at the Wolverine when next Christmas comes.
 
 though?
 Now remember and write a whole tablet full to BILLY LOUISE.
 Phoebe put that letter on the mantei over the fireplace the day after Christ mas.
 Billy Louise refrained from expect ing any reply until after New Years; then she began to look for d letter, and when the days passed and brought her no word her moods changed often CT than the weather.
 Wards literary efforts along about that time consisted of cutting notehes in the window sill beside his bunk.
 On the day when the stage driver gave Billy Louise's letter to Phoebe Ward cut a deeper, wider notch, think ing that day was Christmas. Under the notch he scratched a word with the point of his knife. It had four letters, and it told eloquently of the state of mind he was in.
 The letter gathered dust upon the mantel down at the Wolverine When the postmark was more than two weeks old another letter came, and Phoebe laid it on the first one with fingers that trembled little. Phoebe had a letter of her own that day. Both were thin, and the addresses were more serawly than usual. Phoebe,s Indian instinct warned her that something was amiss.
 This was Wards letter:
 Oh, God. Ward. mommie's dead She died last night. l thought she was asleep till the nurse came in at 5 O clock I'm all alone and l don't know what to do. I wish you could come, but If you don't get this right away, I'll see you at the ranch I'm coming home as soon as I can. Oh Ward, hate life and everything
 BILLY LOUISE.
 Please Ward, stay at the ranch till I come. l want to see you. l feel as if you're the only friend I've got left, now mommies gone. She looked so peaceful when they took her away-and so strange. l didn't belong 10 her any more. I felt as if l didn't know her at all-and there is such an awful gap in my life-maybe you'll understand. You always do
 The day that letter was written Ward drew plan of the house he meant to build some day, with wide porch on the front, where a hammock would swing comfortably.
 He had no presentiment of Billy's need of him, which was just as well. since he was absolutely powerless to help her.
 Billy Louise, having arrived unex- pectedly on the stage, pSled off her fur lined mittens and put her chilled hands before the snapping blaze in the fireplace. Her eyes were tired and sunken, and her mouth dropped pitt fully at the corners, but aside from