The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1931-06-19


1t was all like. nightmarish game,
she thought. The shooting, the
carousing, the brawls and high alter
cations; the sounds Of laughter and
ribaldry and drinking and song that
issued from the flimsy cardboard false
front shacks that lined the preposter-
GUS street. Steadfastly she refused to
believe that this was to be the ac-
cepted order of their existence Yam
cey was always talking of new
code, a new day; live and let live.
Sabra refused to believe that this
business Of the Pegler shooting was
as serious as Yancey made it out to
he. 1t was just one of his whims.
He would, she told herself, publish
something or other about it in the
first edition Of the Oklahoma Wigwam.
Yancey stoutly maintained it was due
off the press on Thursday. Privately,
Sabra thought that this would have to
be accomplished by a miracle. This
was Friday. A fortnight had gone by.
Nothing had been done. Perhaps he
was exaggerating the danger as well
as the Importance of all this Pegler
business. Something else would come
up to attract his interest, arouse his
indignation, or. outrage his sense Of
Justice.
She was Overjoyed when, that same
day, a solemn deputation of citizens,
three In number, de rigueur in SOM
breros and six-shooters, called on Yam
cey with the amazing request that ne
conduct divine service the following
Sunday morning. Usage was over
month old. The women folks, they
said, in effect, thought it high time
that some contact be established be-
tween the little town sprawled on the
prairie and the Power supposedly gaz-
ing down upon it from beyond the
brilliant steel-blue dome suspended
over it. Beneath the calico and sun
bonnets despised Of Sabra on that first
day of her coming to Usage there
apparently glowed the same urge for
convention, discipline, and the old or
der that so fired her to revolt. She
warmed toward them. She made up
her mind that, once the paper had
gone to press, she would don the black
silk and the hat with the plumes and
go calling on such of the wooden
shacks as she knew had fostered this
meeting. Then she recollected her
mothers training and the stern COM
mands Of fashion. The sunbonnets
had been residents of Usage before
she had arrived. They would have the
call first.
She got out plaid silk tie for
Gin. Church meeting!" she ex-
claimed, joyously. Here, at last, was
something familiar; something on
which she could get firm foothold
in this quagmire. Yancey temporarily
abandoned his journalistic mission in
order to make proper arrangements
for Sundays meeting. Born en-
trepreneur. he took hold with the en-
thusiasm that he always displayed in
the first squirt of new enterprise.
Already news of the prospective meet
ing had spread by the mysterious
means common to isolated settle
ments. Nesters, homesteaders, rang
ers, cowboys for miles around some
how got wind of it. Saddles were
polished, harnesses shined, calicoes
washed and ironed, faces scrubbed.
Church meeting.
Yancey turned quite naturally to the
one shelter in the town adequate to
the size Of the crowd expected. 1t
was the gambling tent that stood at
the far north end of Pawhuska avenue,
flags waving gayly from it's top in the
brisk Oklahoma wind. For the men it
was the social center of Usage. Faro,
stud poker. chuckaluck diverted their
minds from the stern business of cit
izenship and saved them the trouble of
counting their ready cash on Satur-
day night. Sunday was, of course,
the great day in the gambling tent.
1t was a question whether the owner
and dealer would be willing to sacri-
fee any portion of Sundays brisk
, trade for the furtherance of the Lords
business, even though the good will
of the townspeople were to be gained
thereby. After all, he might argue, it
was not this element that kept faro
game going.
Yancey, because of his professional
position and his well known power to
charm, was delegated to confer with
that citizen du monde, Mr.. Graf Gotch.
better known as Arkansas Graf. pro-