The Washington herald., 1920-09-14

waitin' for something better"
open me some yellow Clings,"
ordered Poky Rodgers. III wait,
too"
The tobaccoless punchers ar
ranged themselves comfortably
on the steps of the store. Inside
Sam chopped open with a hatChet
the tops of the cans of fruit
The store. a big. white wooden
building like a barn, stood fifty
yards from the ranch-hOuse. Be
yOnd it were the horse corrals:
and still farther the wood sheds
and the brush-topped shearing
pens-for the Rancho CiboIU
raised both cattle and sheep.
Behind the store. at a little dis
tance, were the grass -thatched
jacals of the Mexicans who be-
slowed their allegiance upon the
Cibolo.
The ranCh-house was composed
Of four large rooms. with plas
tered adobe walls. and a two
room wooden ell. A twenty-foot-
wide gallery" circumvented the
structure. It was set in a grove
Of immense live-Oaks and water
elms near a lake-a long. not
very wide. and tremendously
deep lake in which at nightfalI.
great gars leaped to the surface
and plunged with the noise of
hippopotamuses frolicking at
their bath. From the trees hung
garlands and massive pendants
of the melancholy gray moss OF
the South. Indeed, the CibolO
ranCh-house seemed more of the
South than of the West. 1t look
ed as if old "Kiowa" Truesdell
might have brought il with him
from the lowlands of Mississippi
when he came to Texas with his
rife in the hollow OF his arm in
SIS.
But. though he did not bring
the family mansion. Truesdell did
bring something in the way of a
family Inheritance that was more
lasting than brick or stone. Ec
brought one end of the Truesdelt-
Curtis family feud. And when
Curtis bought the Rancho de los
Olmos, sixteen miles from Cibolo.
there were lively times on the
pear fats and in the chapparaI
thiCkets off the Southwest In
those days Truesdell cleaned the
brush of many a wolf and tiger
cat and Mexican lion; and one q
two Curtises fell heirs to nOtCh"s
on his rife stock. Also he buried
a brother with a Curtis bullet in
him on the bank of the lake d &
Cibolo. And then the Kiowa In
dians made their last raid upon
the ranches between the Frio and
the Rio Grande, and Truesdell at
the head of his rangers rid the
earth of them to the last brave,
earning his sobriquet. Then came
prosperity in the form of waxing
herds and broadening LANDS
And then old age and bitterness.
when he sat with his great name
of hair as whfNe as the Spanish
dagger blossoms and his fierce,
blue eyes, on the shaded gal
lery at Cibolo, growing like the
pumas that he had slain. he
snapped his fingers at old age; the
bitter taste to life did not come
from that. The cup that stuck
at his lips was that his only son
Ransom wanted to marry a Cur
tbs, the last youthful survivor
of the other end of the feud
For a while the only sounds to
be heard at the store were the
rafting of the tin spoons and the
gurgling intake of the juicy
fruits by the cowpupchers, the
stamping of the grazing ponies.
and the singing of a doleful song
by Sam as he contentsdly brush
ed his stiff auburn hair for the
twentieth time that day before d
crinkly mirror.
From the door of the store
could be seen the irregular. slop-
ing stretch of prairie to the
south, with its reaches of light
green. billowy mesquite fats in
the lower places. and its rises
crowned with nearly black mass
es of short chapparal Through
the mesquite fiat wound the
ranch road that, five miles away,
flowed into the old government
trail to San Antonio. The sun
was so low that the gentlest ele-
walton cast its grey shadow miles
into the green-gold of sunshine.
That evening ears were quicker
than eyes.
The Mexican held up a tawny
finger to still the scraping of tin
against tin.
One waggeen." said he, GROSS
dthe Arroyo Hondo. All hear
dthe wheel. Verree rockee place,
dthe Hondo."
You've got good ears. Grego-
RIO" said Mustang Taylor. II
never heard nothin' but the song
bird in the bush and the zephyr
skallyhootin' across the peaceful
dell"
In ten minutes Taylor remark
ed: i see the dust of a wagon