Catoctin clarion., 1923-05-17

his desire to fling a sneer at Mormon,
seemed to have halted any correlation
of the statement concerning the death
Of the girls father until now.
1T that's true about your dad" he
said, "Im sorry. How did he die?"
Sensing the hypocrisy of the shift
to sympathy, the girl took step for
ward. Mormon's pupils contracted
again; his finger itched to press the
trigger it touched.
"It's none of yore business" said
the girl "You git"
"None of my business? l don't agree
with you there, you little h-l-weasel.
Your father and me had more than
one deal together. You and l may
have to do business together yet, Molly
mine"
Molly's teeth showed between her
parted lips, her fingers were hooked.
Mormon anticipated her indignant
leap. His gun spurted fire, the eXpen-
sive Stetson broadrim seemed lifted
from Plimsolrs hair by an invisible
hand. With the report it sailed for
ward, side-slipped, landed on its rim,
perforated by steel-nosed 3S-caliber
bullet
II give you last warnin'," roared
Mormon.
Plimsoll sprang ahead like a racer
at the starters shot, snatched at his
hat, missed it, let 1t lie as he ran on
to his horse. mounted and went gal
Looping off. Mormon holstered his gun
with crimson cheeks, blazing eyes and
Il young bosom turbulent with emo
tiOns
81 wisht you'd killed him. wisht
you'll killed him !" she cried. 81 wisht
/ had a gun-Or knife. hate him.
When he says he was ever in deal
with Dad, he lies. Dad stood for him
and that was all. He purtended to
be awful strong for Dad, purtended
to be fond of me- Jest to swarm round
Dad, for some reason. Brought me
doll once. l was thirteen. What In
HI did l want with a doll?' she
painted. 81 burned the d-n thing that
night in the fire. He kissed me an
Dad seemed to think / owed it him
for the doll. l nigh bit my lip off
afterward. l wisht yOre first shot had
been higher, or yore second lower,
Peters"
Call me Uncle Mormon, Molly. He's
sure some snake. But we'll take care
Of Jim Plimsoll, yore Uncle Mormon,
with Sam an Sandy"
Patting MOllys shoulder, Mormon
smiled at her with his irresistible
grin, and she reflected 1t family as
she tucked in the remnants of her
torn sleeve.
That's the on'y dress I got till
Sandy BOurke wins me some money"
she said
His arm around her shoulder, pur-
posely chatting away, Mormon led
Molly toward the ranch house. Plim-
soils horse was stirring up dust
cloud on the way to Hereford, other
puffs, far away toward the range,
proclaimed that the blackboard was
on its way with its funeral freight.
The body of the old prospector was
lowered into the grave with the last
of the daylight. Molly Casey walked
away alone, her head high, the corner
of her lower lip caught under her
teeth. eyes winking back the tears.
1t was the headboard that had forced
her struggle for composure. Mormon
had marked on it, with the heavy
lead of carpenters pencil.
PATRICK CASEY
lies here
where the grass grows
and the water runs. He
looked for gold in the desert
and found death.
Buried June TO-
1920
"Ef that suits you," he told Molly,
'they's a chap over to Hereford |
who's wolf on carvin'. My letterin's
punk. When yore mines pay you c'ud
have 1t In stone"
"You-all are awful good to me-" was !
all she could trust herself to say. |
Each of the Three Musketeers of the |
Range felt tug to take her in his |
arms and comfort her. Instead they |
ooked at one another, as men of |
heir breed do. Sam pulled at his
Mormon rubbed the top
# his bald head and Sandy rolled (
cigarette and smoked 1t silently.
Molly ate no supper that night. Be
ore dawn Sandy thought he heard the
loor of her room open and soft foot
alls stealing down the stairs. When
he went later to the spring he found
he grave covered with the wild
blooms that the girl had picked in
he dewy dawn.