The Celina Democrat. (Celina, O. [Ohio]) 1895-1921, 1918-01-18
CHAPTER XII.


The Brave Buekaroo.
Boise, Ida, Dec. q.
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 arc the first fruits of my
| endeavor-I guess that's the way they say
( il. I've spent so much time sitting by
mommic when she's asleep and | get tired
\ Of reading ali the time, so nurse in this
ward-mommie has a room to herself, OF
| course, but not special nurse, because
/ / can do n lot of the little things Well,
/ the nurse taught ME how to hemstitch.
! So l got some silk and made some nice
| soft neckerchiefs-One for you and one
| for me.
| This one / made last. l didn't want
your eagle eyes seeing all the bobby
/ stitches on the first one. l hope you Ike
it, Ward, Every stitch stands for
thought of the hills and our good times.
I've brought Minervy back to life, ana 1
| try to play my old pretends sometimes
I But they always break up into pieces. m
not a kid now, you sec. And life is lot
different when you get out into it, isn't 1t?
Mommie doesn't seem to get much bet
ter. Pm 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. 1t gets on my
nerves to see how she has slipped out oil
everyday life. The nurse says that's COM
mon though, in sickness. She says l
could so home and look after things for
q week or so just as well as not She
saws mommie would be all right. But l
hate to leave her.
I'm awfully homcsick for good old ride
on Blue. 1 miss him terribly, Have you
seen anything OF the cove folks lateiy
Seems like I'm clear out Of the world.
hate town, anyway, and hospital is the
limit for dsmalness Even the Louise OF
me is getting ready to do something aW-
full IL | 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 L doh
have anything to do but sit around ana
read and sew and wait for her 10 wake
up and want something.
And this is Christmas almost. l won.
der what you'll be doing. Say, Ward. IL
YOU want to be perfect jewel of man
send me some of that jerSy you've got
hanging at the head of your bunk.
swiped some that last time / 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 ana
I will be eating turkey together at the
Wolverine when next Christmas comes.
Nummy-num! Wouldn't that taste good
though? -.
Now remember and write whole tablet
full TO BILLY LOOl0H'
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 letter,
and when the days passed and brought
her no word her moods changed often
er than the weather.
Wards literary efforts along about
that time consisted of cutting notches
in the window sill beside his bunk.
On the day when the stage driver
gave Billy Louise's letter to Phoebe
Ward cut deeper, wider notch, think
ing that day was Christmas. Under
the notch he scratched a word with
the point of his knife. 1t 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 letter Of her own that day. Both
were thin, and the addresses were more
scrawly than usual. Phoebe's Indian
instinct warned her that something
was amiss.
This was Wards letter:
oh, Cod Ward, mommies dead She
died last night / thought she was asleep
till the nurse came in at o'clock. I'm
all alone and don't know what to do.
wish you could come, but IL you don't get
this right away, I'll see you at the i.nch.
I'm coming home as soon as l can. Oh,
Ward, / hate life and everything.
BILLY LOUISE.
Please Ward, stay at the ranch till
come. l want to see you. L feel as II
you're the only friend I've got left now
rnommie's gone She looked so peaceful
when they took her away-and so strange.
[ didn't belong to her any more. l felt
as IL I 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 a plan Of the house he
meant to build some day, with a wide
porch on the front, where hammock
would swing comfortably.
He had no presentiment of Billys
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, pulled off her
fur lined mittens and put her chilled
hands before the swapping blaze in the
fireplace. Her eyes were tired and
sunken, and her mouth dropped pitt
f,,llu ut the corners, but aside from