Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1922-05-26
Storm CountryPo Polly
by Grace Miller White
Copyright by Little Brown s. CO.

Keep settin'." breathed Pollyop.
They'll be stoppin' here fast enough"
OF a sudden the door burst open. and
Marcus Mackenzie, covered with
snow, entered. With him were two of
his neighbors and several squatters.
Polly enjoyed a glimpse of Old
Mares agonlzed face; then she grlnned
at him.
"What's the matter, mister1" she
asked, showing an expanse Of even
white teeth. "What do you mean by
Dustin into my house like this, slrl"
Mackenzie threw a glance from the
girl to the squatter in the chair.
"My wtfe's gonel" he cried In des-
peratlon. II"
"Sof Now Is shef' broke In Polly,
smiling wider. "You don't sayl Well,
golly mel That's too bad. Some other
Teller run Off with 'er-mebbe !"
And when she saw him trying to
master his emotion, forcing back the
heavy groans that interfered with his
efforts to answer, she laughed. Never
before had she been reckless In his
presence. She knew this was one time
Marcus Mackenzie did not want to
fight. He needed the help of the squat
ters' to search the Storm country for
his wife-his bride, the very apple Of
his eye.
He did not look at all like the flash
ing-eyed enemy Of her people. All at
once he had changed from q cynical,
handsome man of the world to a plead
ing, pale-faced husband.
Just then the wind shook the shanty
violently and over his big frame
passed shudder after shudder.
"She's been gone, oh God, I don't
know how long," he groaned aloud, the
haggard expression deepening In the
lines about his mouth as he spoke. "1ll
give-1nl give more money than any
Of you ever saw" He flung around on.
Bishop and thrust out an im%portunate
hand.
Larry had been watching him COW
ertly, In moody silence. When Marcus
addressed him directly, he threw back
his head and let out loud malevolent
sounds more like the bowls Of hyenas
than the laugh Of q human being and
Polly Hopkins Joined In again, too,
dreadful sounds that made her thin.
lovely face look old.
"This Is q queer place to come for
your woman" she tainted Mackenzie.
ITO q sQuatter's shack, huh2 l didn't
know before that rich women came to
the Silent City, least of oil, yourn."
Mackenzie took a step toward her.
"Oh, l was sure she wasn't here" he
thrust In eagerly. "But l want help
the aid Of every one Of you. Money"
he cried again, cOnvulsively. money.
do you hear2 Money, l said"
Polly was witnessing just the picture
that she had been holding In her minds
eye for many days.
Money can't buy everything, mis-
ter" she 1eered at him. "Mebbe your
woman's In the snow. Tomorrow's
Thanksgivin' day. Mebbe you'll miss
'er If she amt home with you. Scoot
out Of here. Don't be laggin', Old
Marc. or she might freeze to death
somewheres. It's a bad night"
The last statement. true to every
word, brought a deep sob from Mac
Kennels throat. 1t was Immediately
followed by more Of the bitter laugh.
ter.
So changed was Polly of the Silent
City that the gaping squatters who did
not know what was going to happen
wondered at her. They knew her no
longer as Polly, the ~love-lass, or as
Polly Of the Sun.
A low rumble sounded In the girls
throat, She coughed, then flung out:
II said, It's a bad night Scoot
out, mister. an look for your d-n lily
livered woman somewheres else"
Uttering an oath, Mackenzie fled,
followed by his companions, leaving
Larry Bishop staring at the pale squat
ter girl.