The Oakley herald. [volume] (Oakley, Idaho) 1908-1961, 1920-11-12

ties, two: Buckeye, mile up the river,
and the City twenty miles farther on.
When the man returned to the
houseboat the Iron-G ray-Woman still
lay back in the shaky rocking chair.
Dipping the battered cup full Of fresh
water, the man stepped to her side.
"Your cool drink, mother"
The thin lids raised The eyes she
turned toward him must have been
wonderfully beautiful in her day
large and deep and lustrous. The
cough that wasted her breast seemed
powerless to dim their luster.
The man crossed the cabin and laid
his hand on the rumpled curtain over
the doorway. about to return to his
task Of sharpening the fish spear
1T looks cOOl-and calm-up there"
He paused; glanced back over his
shoulder at her. and waited for her
to 60 on.
rs that log house see up there
under the cliffs?"
The floor Of the houseboat creaked
under the weight Of him as he came
to the window. He had to stoop low
to bring his eyes level with the open
Ing
"A log house, old and empty"
The Iron-Gray- Woman sat musing
moment, her eyes astray among the
trees nodding languidly in the serene
June afternoon.
Il wish l might live again upon the
shore. The sun beats down so hot
upon the houseboat, and grow weary
Of the eternal throb of the river. II
could only live little while up there
should grow strong"
And why not? It's empty, and no.
body would care. In these deep woods
there's nobody to CARE
A flicker OF light crossed her face.
I'D get well up there under the
strong cliffs, with the cool spring SO
near. And I've lived so long-since
you were child Il arms--on the river
the Ohio; the White; the Wabash p
Always, mother! Always the house
boat-drifting drifting--and you SO
frail, so beautiful !"
The man left the window and knelt
by the rocking chair. The Iron-Gray-
Woman saw the question In his eyes
hunger for some word out of the
past; word that had never come. All
his life she had kept 1t from him
whatever 1t had been that happened
back there behind the veil of her ST.
lence that left him nameless; a river
waif; nomad in an orderly world;
fisher of pearls; a pearlhunter. Her
eyes came back and faltered over him.
No longer child; boy-the reflec-
ton startled her. A man knelt at her
his face. And 1t was his right to
know. Her head dropped back against
the quilt that cushioned the chair. It's
solemn thing to be the mother of
man-glorious but solemn.
The lustrous eyes-brighter for the
fever wasting them-came back to him
after time. He saw a far-fung
thoughtfulness In them; knew they
had strayed into that past from which
he was barred. The thin lips parted.
The mans fingers curled tense upon
the chair arm.
ITO a city on the Wabash, In early
days, came three families of Virginias
purest blood-my family, your fathers
family. and the family of-of-another
man."
The Iron-Gray-Woman shuddered
and was silent for a moment. The
| man picked up wasted hand; stroked
| it softly between his own, and she
went on, strained and slow, like one
desperately nerved to a long-dreaded
| task.
my parents both died when / was
so small that I can barely remember
| them, leaving me, their only child, to
| the care Of distant relative, a great
uncle Of my fathers. This great-great-
| uncle-well, as / look back upon my
! life / cannot remember that he ever
| gave me a pleasant word.
my aunt was as different as dawn
| to dark. She was everything that he
was not. A thousand times she loved
my hurt away.
''They had daughter, an only child,
| almost my age, and Of the same name
surname and all. When uncle was
AWAY Ou DuSiucSS NIlQS, hS lie Ulttu
was for weeks, 1t was like sunshine
after rain. Such happy times They
are high among the few pleasant
memories of my life"
| The Iron-Gray-Woman paused, her
dark, deep eyes seeming to search
back into the dead past, like a traveller
straining his gaze across stretch Of
| desert to where the oasis lies. The
man shifted to his other knee and sh.
| went on.
MY aunt died when we were in our
| girlhood. After that-the gray days
were ever more than the bright. A
petulance settled deep upon my uncle,
His best word was growl The serv-
ants moved about the house like silent
shadows.
in this same city upon the Wabash
| lived two other families, as | have told
you--your fathers family and the
family of-of-another man. Your
father and this other man were both
my suitors. But my uncle tried every