San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1923-04-09
CHAPTER /.
John lannon's Fi-Tnament.

arrogance!
In land where distance hazed tb
southern skyline, where tawny butter
and mesas stood majestically agains
the blue, where bunch-grass levels
swept toward the illimitable west ant
the Blind Trail Hills rose stark anC
forbidding upon the east, it lay lik'
the heart of peace itself. smiling in tn,
sun, green with its-wide alfalfa field.
beneath its living waters.
Worn, old-fashioned chairs ant
benches stood Hospitality on the clean
swept earth where the poplars made
their shaking shade.and hammocks
gay with fringe, swung in the little
| breezes.
And, half circling this enchanting
spot upon the left, there stood the
ranch house itself.
The house was irregular, full OF
great rooms and passage-ways and sud-
den turnings, of mysterious and UNI
expected hooks and corners. In the
center of the half-circle which it
| formed around the spring and the cot
| tonwOods. two great doors opened in
ward, taking the stranger abruptly
! into a room so huge-so high, so wide,
so deep-that he invariably caught his
breath.
Its hard earth floor was covered to
every corner with Indian rugs in star
ing black -and-white, every one of
which in its beautiful design, its size.
its thickness, was worth a pocket full
of gold. On its walls yet other rugs
and blankets were stretched between
the long, deep riffs that answered for
windows, but these were bright with
color-flaming reds and colds and the
sharp clear contrast of the blacks that
only the Indian weavers know so well
how to use. Here and there among
these striking panels there hung a pic
ture or two-and again the stranger
stared, for one was the Mona Lisa
with her ever enhancing smile, and
one was Psyche at Spring in the ex-
quisite lights and tints of April, while
yet one other was that undying joy
to those who love horseflesh, Rosa
Bonheurs Horse Fair, full four feet
long.
There were couches against the
walls, and in one corner where the
light fell softly from the west through
the fine-leaved vine outside the win
dow, a piano, so old that its once
milk-white keys were yellow as an old
dogs tooth, lifted its harp-shaped top
majestically against the piece Of an
cient tapestry that draped the fall
behind. 4 narrow bench entirely COW
cred with minute carvings. black with
age, stood meekly before it, as if glad
to serve in its lowly way the once
grand instrument.
Here in the dusk woman came
sometimes, feeling with outstretched
hands for the things she could not
see, and sliding softly on the ancient
bench, played tinkling tunes of a long
past day. A sweet, fair woman she
was, frail and delicate to outline and
demeanor, with patient lines in her
clear face and with the light of splen- |
did soul shining in her darkness.
For twenty years she had been like
a prisoner in this fortress. but guard |
ed by so many loving hearts. watched
by so many keen eyes, served by so
many eager hands, that she was in
reality a queen. And here, often, |
when she played her nameless tunes a |
man came to find her, to sit and listen |
and to watch her face with such a |
heart-ache on his features that
Tragedy stalked through the Swallowed |
room.
This was John Harmon, the boss of |
the rancho, the greatest oneman pow
er in the country of the mesas, hated |
by his far neighbors fc: his fences and
his fields. and his methods, feared by |
his enemies, and a shining mark for
that sharp gentry of the Border whose
raids and crimes were load on the
hearts of all the ranchers within strik
ing distance of the line. And the slim
blind woman was his wife. Belle. the
,nly nomenclature he had ever loved
IN all his life save one, and whose af-
Fiction had darkened the windows of
lis soul with bitter rebellion.
John lannon's land stretched for
many a mile, according to his strength
20 hold it, and cattle grazed on the
sweet bunch grass as far as the eye
.ould see. Four living springs among
he mesas. more precious than gold in
hat half desert land, were his by right
If long possession and might Of protec-
ion.
Cowboys, vaqueros. slept in the long
punk house that stood to the right of
he ranch house and the barns, fol-
owed the rafting chuckwagons, rode
he range and were John lannon's to
, man, for this big. heavy ranchero
was of personality that drew men to
him strongly or repealed them as
His dark eyes were change
lble. soft as shadows when he looked
mon his wife. keen and bright as
flame when his swift anger was
aroused.
And that was not so rare thing,
his rousing of his wrath, for there
were those who resented his broad
fields of alfalfa that ran toward the
south, who called him a "nester, that
title of opprobrium-the cattlemen:
who looked with suspicion and
lesire upon the pride of John Han
mons heart, namely the wondrous
horses that ran inside his fences.
All, Those horses. How shall ono
describe them?
They were red as hearts blood and
very white so vital. In every shade.
rom the pale flame-red of the young
matched racers. Firebrand and The
Flame. with their cream-white
names and tails, through the darker
tones of old Hotfoot. their |
mother. of Redcloud. as Downright
the wild young mare with her evil
heart. of Lightning the beautiful.
hey ranged to the deep and splendid
,olor of Redstar. the king.
II the Others were amazing in their
beauty and perfection. Redstar was
beyond comparison. And he was not
hin TO the Red Brood. since he. was
an alien. brought from none knew
what distant land save John Harmon