The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1934-07-20
CHAPTER VIII
Il l.
Clouds of Portent.


In the hard days that followed,
Sonya knew a fire of ecstacy among
the dark shadows Of disaster. Wher-
ever suffering and death entered the
lOwly hogans, there the steady hands
of Starr Stone were a bulwark and
a help. They rode together in the
dawns, meeting on this and that high
level, and at the twilights, when they
separated, she to go back to the ranch,
he to that mysterious limbo from
which he had emerged. Where he
spent his hours away from her Sonya
did not know and was afraid to ask
again. She only knew that his long
hands were gentle as a woman's with
hungry child, holding cup to
parched lips, bathing hot dark faces
with little rag, and once he brushed
and braided the black hair Of dead
mahala before they buried her.
And that day Sonya wept against
his shoulder for sheer misery at the
tragic fate which had made Of this
man an outcast and a pariah.
So the hectic days passed, with little
count Of them and these two working
together at their humble tasks. Once
the girl told him, you're no lost soul
as you'd have me think. You're of that
brotherhood Of which Christ spoke
when he said, IF We do it unto the
least Of these, my brethren, We do it
unto me- Servers of the world" And
he had made no answer.
They kissed each other now at part
ing, softly, as if the thing they held
between them was so precious that
careless touch might destroy it utterly.
To the man there was tragedy and
stark sorrow in every touch of Sonya's
lips, her hands, the tender brushing of
her cheeks against his. He was blessed
beyond all dreams, humbled beyond all
imagining.
And he know how fleeting this para
disc must be, how soon life and it's
mandates must take him away from
her forever. It was this knowledge
which made the enchanted days SO
short, so unreal.
And by the end of that week the
strain lessened. Everywhere her peo-
pie were getting up from their hogan
floors, thin brown shapes with big
eyes In their dark faces, and no more
were lying down. The epidemic was
dying out. Those that were left be-
gan to be busy making new hogans
before the summer should be gone, for
they would not live in any house where
death had been. They feared the
tchindis, or ghosts of the dead, and
malevolent spirits. But they looked
at Sonya and Starr Stone with long
looks, unfathomable looks, and some
times a woman touched the girls hand
tentatively, or man said some clipped,
cultural word which the latter could
not understand and Sonya interpreted.
"Hosteen Little Man says we are the
Healing Winds" Or, "Our medicine is
better medicine than Yellow Bucks"
And Yellow Buck had been very busy
in all the hogans where Sonya was
not, performing ceremonies, singing
chants and making medicine of his
own.
And now Life made ready to take its
reckoning. She had lived in these
rushing weeks. lived very fast, very
full, known the dark of sorrow, of pity,
and the light Of great Joy, the pleas
ure of good work well done. She had
bloomed in the glow Of such love as
she had never dreamed of, what time
she could spare to it, and felt as
though she were richer. more vital, in
all the reaches Of her nature. Now.