The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1939-03-02

peaks of the KaWeahS. Mist or the
canyons caught each shade of SUM-
set; violet deepening into vibrant
red, the Kaweah tops themselves
rising golden against an opal sky.
The picture was paintable and
Breck said so. Louise faced him
sharply, her lips parted in breath
less question. "You don n't-don't
paint?"
mo. Sometimes I wish I did. |
certainly would paint this range.
Why is it so many artists study the
coast? 1t is beautiful, but SO much
the same-always blue water, brown
rocks, fans of white surf. But this,
out there-look at it!'
She shook her head. 81 can't"
Breck averted his eyes from hers,
aware that he had probed something
deep and painful. He would have
turned their talk from pictures, but
her own words rushed to him.
"You may think I'm silly! But
you've just expressed what | have
always wanted to do Paint the
High Sierrasl And your talk of the
Old Soak's Cellar. Don't | know it
where you bring your own bread
and butter and fry things, and if you
haven't quarter for the gas meter.
there's Jimmy Valentine himself to
show you how to work a slug.
Bleecker Street with its Italian push
cartsl And bus-top ride up Fifth
Avenue for ten centsl And even
Greenwich Villagel
Il know you're wondering how I
can faI for its sham. They work
SO hard at being a sham-that's
why. / admire hard work. And
some of them paint. ! tried to and
had to give it up. Out here / whirl
lass-rope and wear chaps, but I've
got an old orange smock down at
the ranch" Louise broke off, and
stared at Breck through the dusk
that almost hid her face.
II think / understand" he said
quietly. "You have an old smock-
some day you'll go back to it."
do you think so?. Do you? Oh, if
/ could believe that!'
With sudden impulse Breck leaned
across the table to her. "You must
believe it, Louise"
She started at the sound of her
own name softly spoken. Her dark
eyes met his searchingly. "Why?"
At once Breck realized there was
no explainable reason for his as
surance. He hesitated and Louise
spoke first.
mo pity, thank you. I didn't fish
for that. I'm a ranch woman now,
and I'm going to make money at it.
Sometimes I'm sure that's the most
important thing anyway"
Breck answered biuIltiy from the
depths of his own experience. "It
isn't!"
"You seem to know"
"I do"
She leaned back from the table
and away from him. Color of ex-
citement left her cheeks, her eyes
held only their level gaze.
"Who are your" she asked. ''Why
are you here?"
With regret Breck felt their warm
contact of common interest slip
away. I'm a forest ranger" he
answered, working at my job"
Outside a thunder of hoofs sound
ed over the meadow. He stood up
and opened the door. The drive was
coming through the opposite canyon
notch, spreading in great dark
wedge into the bowl until, reaching
the drift fence, it halted.
Louise left the bunk and stood be-
side Breck. Il guess your job has
come" she said, land mine too"
"pn turn this cabin over to you
tonight, Breck offered. You'll rest
better"
Don't you think it, I've learned
to rest with my back on a rock
pile, if only my face is to the stars"
She smiled, adding, Thanks just
the same. An Indian boy is bring
ing my camp pack. always spread
it near the creek above this sta
tion. Cowhands camp on the mead
ow."
The boy came before dark, lead
ing a mule and the girls blue horse.
Breck watched her ride up stream
until her small figure vanished in
a shelter of pine.
For two hours, while he moved
his possessions into his room, he
could hear a rumble of cattle en-
tering the meadow. 1t was eight
o'clock before the last of them.
poured in and cowboys fires be-
gan to pierce the shadows.
BY nine full dark had come. He
went to the telephone hung in its
iron box on post just outside the
cabin door, cranked four rings to
call headquarters, and when Cook
answered, gave his report. "The
drive is in, Dad. I'm going out now
and take a swing around"
"All right" the rangers voice re-
turned. lone circle ought to be
enough. Show yourself in few
camps to let them know you're at
it,"
Breck hung up, mounted Kit and
sat scanning the meadow bowl.
Campfires we're mostly at the fur
ther end, near where the black mass
of cattle lay against the drift fence
His eyes swept those camps, then,
continuing back of the station, fell
upon one alone and not far away.
Even as he watched, the light
blinked as one figure crossed in
front of the flames, then another.
He wheeled his horse, stopped.
None of his business who was up
there. He shouldn't see the girl
again tonight But that feeling of
-4sIl ,.w~ox- tiy,,