i 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Mrs. Frank Morse 
 
^^£.^ ^ 
 
 /U^ /fsi 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 3535.1 153T2 
 
 A tenderfoot bride;tales from an old ran 
 
 3 1924 021 668 508 
 
A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
S.^ Cornell University 
 wJM Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021668508 
 
A TENDERFOOT 
 BRIDE 
 
 BY 
 CLARICE E. RICHARDS 
 
 GARDEN CITY NEW YORK 
 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 1927 
 
Ki<:/V\fvr As^ r.\ o. 'r\c,<» 
 
 CE^tcVi^ook:) \^7S- 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY CLARICE E. RICHARDS. ALL 
 RIGHTS RESERVED. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES 
 AT THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. t. 
 
To the One 
 
 who!»e Companionship, Inspiration and 
 
 Encouragement have made 
 
 this book possible 
 
 My Husband 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. First Impressions 11 
 
 II. A Surprise Party 24 
 
 III. The Boot Cellar 41 
 
 IV. The Great Adventure Progresses . . 57 
 
 V. The CtovERNMENT Contract . . - . 71 
 
 VI. A Variety op Runaways 87 
 
 VII. The Measure of a Man 99 
 
 VIII. The Sheep Business 118 
 
 IX. The Unexpected 134 
 
 X. Abound the Christmas Fire .... 154 
 
 XI. Ted 172 
 
 XII. Buzzards 191 
 
 XIII. Echoes of the Past 211 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Pike's Peak from the Old Banch . . Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 Roping and Cutting Out Cattle .... 26 
 
 Roping a Steer to Inspect Brand . . v . 50 
 
 Inspecting A Brand 74 
 
 The "Star" is a Frightened Snorting, ' 
 "Broncho" 98 
 
 Trailed All the Way from New Mexico. . 122 
 
 Like a Solitary Fence Post . . . . ^. .122 
 
 Bucking Horse and Rider 154 
 
 Facing Death Each Time They Ride a New 
 Horse 186 
 
I 
 
 FIRST IMPRESSIONS 
 
 WHEN our train left Colorado 
 Springs and headed out into those 
 vast stretches of the prairie, which 
 spread East like a great green ocean from 
 the foot of Pike's Peak, all the sensations of 
 Christopher Columbus setting sail for a new 
 world, and a few pecuUarly my own, mingled 
 in my breast. 
 
 As the train pounded along I stole a look 
 at Owen. He was absorbed in the contem- 
 plation of a map of our new holdings. Under 
 that calm exterior I suspected hidden attri- 
 butes of the primitive man. Certainly there 
 was some reason why Western life was to 
 his liking, having had the chance to choose. 
 It was late in the afternoon when we found 
 ourselves on the platform of the solitary 
 little wayside station. The train went rush- 
 ing on through the July sunshine, as if impa^ 
 11 
 
12 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 tient at the stop. Our fellow passengers had 
 drawn their heads back from the car win- 
 dows, after vainly trying to see what appar- 
 ently sane people could find to stop for in a 
 place like that. In truth, there was little — a 
 water tank, a section house, two cottages 
 and one store. 
 
 A combination station-agent and baggage- 
 man stood on the platform. Near a hitch- 
 ing rack a tall individual was waving his 
 long arms about like a windmill as he beck- 
 oned us to approach. Owen picked up the 
 bags; I trudged along behind with various 
 coats and packages, stopping midway be- 
 tween platform and wagon to disengage a 
 large tumbleweed, which had rolled merrily 
 to my feet and attached itself to my skirt. 
 
 The tall man took a few steps in our direct 
 tion, still holding the reins in his hand. With 
 one eye he gave us a greeting, while he kept 
 the other on the lunging horses. He was 
 hardly a prepossessing person at first sight, 
 except for his smile. I felt that his keen 
 black eyes had sized us up in one quick 
 glance. I became blushingly conscious of 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS 13 
 
 being a new bride, and from "the East." 
 "How-de-do? Whoa, now. Brownie. Just 
 get in folks, — the old man had to go to town, 
 so he sent me to meet you, but he'll be back 
 by the time we get to the ranch." All this 
 in one breath, while he helped Owen place 
 the bags in the wagon. 
 
 "Don't mind the horses; they're plumb 
 gentle — just a little ex-cited now over the 
 train, that's all. Whoa now," with decided 
 emphasis. "Sorry, Mrs. Brook, hope you 
 didn't hurt yourself" — ^this last as the horses 
 suddenly backed and knocked my foot off 
 the step. "Oh, no, not at all," I replied, 
 hastily scrambling into the wagon and thank- 
 ing heaven that I had landed on the seat 
 before they gave an unexpected lurch for- 
 ward. Owen got in beside the driver; the 
 horses reared and started off. I gripped the 
 seat and my hat, and fastened my eyes on 
 the horses' ears. When we had crossed the 
 railroad and the movement was more steady, 
 I began to "take notice" of things about me, 
 and the conversation going on in the front 
 seat reached me in fragments. 
 
14 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 The driver said he was called "Tex," He 
 was a true son of Texas, and it was not diffi- 
 cult to imagine that particles of his native 
 soil still clung to him. The deep creases in 
 his neck were so filled with dirt that he 
 looked like a charcoal sketch. As he turned 
 his face, lined and seamed, I saw that his 
 chin was covered with at least a week's 
 growth of greyish-black beard, I estimated 
 his age. He might have been fifty; very 
 quick in speech and action, yet there was a 
 subdued power about the man. He managed 
 the horses easily, and I caught in his drawl- 
 ing speech a casual, half -bantering tone, 
 
 "Wonder if them grips is botherin' the 
 Missus. Ridin' all right?" he asked, turning 
 with solicitude to see the location of the 
 bags. As it happened, they were all located 
 on top of my feet. It was Owen who re- 
 moved them, for Tex's attention was again 
 engaged with Brownie, who suddenly landed 
 quite outside the road, A cotton-tail had 
 jumped from behind a rattleweed, 
 
 "Quit that now. Brownie. You never did 
 have no sense," The drawl was half- 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS 15 
 
 sarcastic. " Tears like you ain't never seen 
 no rabbits before, 'stead a bein' raised with 
 "em." Brownie gave a little shake of her 
 pretty head and crowded her long-suffering 
 mate back into the road again. I was be- 
 coming very much interested. This man 
 was a distinctly new type to me. I did not 
 know then that he was the old-time cow- 
 puncher, with an ease of manner a Chester- 
 field might have envied, and an unfailing, 
 almost deferential, courtesy toward women. 
 Never shall I forget that first drive across 
 the prairie, — ^not a house, not a tree in sight, 
 except where the cottonwoods traced the 
 borders of a waterless creek. Gently rolling 
 hills were all about us, instead of the flat 
 country I had expected to see; hills which 
 failed to reveal anything when we reached 
 the top, but yet higher hills to climb. An 
 unexpected vastness seemed to extend to the 
 very boundaries of the unknown, as we 
 looked about on all sides, only to see the soft 
 green circle of the hills, on which the bluest 
 of skies gently rested, sweep about us. I 
 felt the spell of unlimited space, and smiled 
 
16 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 as I thought of the tearful farewell of one of 
 my bridesmaids. She had "hated" to think of 
 my being "cooped up on a ranch." "Cooped 
 up" here, when for the first time I realized 
 what unhampered freedom might mean in a 
 country left as God had made it, with so 
 little trace of man's interference! 
 
 At last we came to a gate made of three 
 strands of barbed wire, fastened together in 
 the middle and attached to a stick at each 
 end. It was a real gate when up, but when 
 opened, it was a floppy invention of the Evil 
 One, designed to tax the patience of a saint. 
 The strands of wire got mixed and crossed 
 and grew perceptibly shorter, so that it re- 
 quired superhuman strength and something 
 of a disposition to get the end of the stick 
 through the loop of wire, which held it in 
 place again. 
 
 This gate marked the Southern boundary 
 of the ranch, ten miles from the railroad 
 station. We reached the top of a hill and 
 looked up a long valley, where the creek 
 wound its way, fringed by great cottonwood 
 trees, until its source was lost behind three 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS 17 
 
 prominent buttes, purple in the haze of the 
 late afternoon. Beyond the buttes stood 
 Pike's Peak, snow-capped and alone, guardian 
 of the valley, the whole length of which it 
 commanded. Through some peculiarity of 
 position all the other peaks of the Rockies 
 remained invisible, while this one mountain 
 rose in majestic isolation from the plain. 
 
 Tex stopped the horses for a moment, and 
 without a word pointed with the whip toward 
 a clump of cottonwoods in the distanceu 
 
 'The ranch?" I asked. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 In the beautiful valley it stood, the white 
 fences, corrals and outbuildings gleaming in 
 the sun. Nestled among the trees, planted 
 so densely that only a suggestion of its 
 white walls showed between them, was the 
 house — our first home ! 
 
 As we drove up to the gate, a short man, 
 with a thick beard, bustled out to meet us. 
 
 "Well, here you are! Got here all right. 
 Sorry I couldn't meet you. Come right in. 
 You must be tired settin'," And before we 
 quite realized that we had arrived, we were 
 
18 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 ushered into the house through the back 
 door. 
 
 As a matter of fact, there was no front 
 door. Two outside doors opened into the 
 kitchen, one on either side, and since the 
 kitchen was in truth the "living-room," 
 what need of a front door? 
 
 A placid-faced, elderly woman greeted us, 
 and after a few moments conducted us up a 
 crooked stairway to a room under the eaves. 
 
 Owen left hastily "to look around out- 
 side," and I followed as quickly as possible 
 for I knew that if I looked around inside for 
 any length of time, I should start back to 
 the railroad station on foot. 
 
 Old Mr. and Mrs. Bohm had lived on the 
 place for over thirty years in this house, 
 which was the evolution of a dug-out, with 
 many subsequent periods in prospect before 
 it became a possible home. Mrs. Bohm had 
 recently been having "fainting spells," 
 which frightened her husband into a plan to 
 dispose of the ranch and live in town. 
 
 It was a wonderful ranch. Acres on acres 
 of richest grass, a wealth of hay land and 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS 19 
 
 natural water holes, — a paradise for stock. 
 To poor homesick me, this place had no sug- 
 gestion of paradise. It looked run down and 
 disorderly ; the fences around the house were 
 adorned with everything from old battered 
 tin buckets and mowing-machine wheels to 
 the smallest piece of rusty wire. Mrs. Bohm 
 confided to me that "James liked it that way 
 because everything was so handy." There 
 was no questioning that, but as a first im- 
 pression it was hopeless, and my heart grew 
 heavier and heavier as I thought of the new 
 house in Wyoming, where we had expected 
 to be, and the Eastern home I had just left. 
 I walked out of sight of the festooned 
 fence and tried to think. Up the valley the 
 Peak was deep blue against the golden eve- 
 ning sky, and in the vast, unbroken silence 
 of the prairies I felt the sense of chaos and 
 confusion give way to peace. The old house, 
 tumble-down fences, mowing machine 
 wheels and wire took an inconsequent place 
 in the scale of things compared to Owen's 
 undertaking. He must succeed. The un- 
 desirable could be removed or made over. 
 
20 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 We were in a new world, we had a great 
 domain, we faced undreamed of experiences 
 and possibilities. My spirits rose with a 
 bound, and I resolved from that moment to 
 consider our life here in the West, in the 
 midst of new conditions, a great adventure. 
 At that instant the original Bohm dug-out 
 would have held no terrors for me. 
 
 Perhaps if I had known just how great 
 the adventure was to be, what varied and 
 nerve-testing experiences the future did 
 hold, I might have been daunted; but with a 
 farewell look at the Peak and a new sense 
 of strength and courage, I went to meet 
 Owen. I realized that he knew the possi- 
 bilities of the place and that the conditions 
 would all soon be changed, and I knew, too, 
 that he was distressed at the realization of 
 how it must all appear to me. He looked 
 troubled, as he came toward me. 
 
 "Can you stand it for a little while?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Of course, I can," I replied, cheerfully, 
 blindly taking the first step toward the 
 great adventure. 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS 21 
 
 "It's all right, dear; it's going to be won- 
 derful, living here." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Bohm, Tex and six bashful 
 cow-punchers were in the kitchen waiting 
 for us before they sat down to supper. We 
 were presented to the men, and in acknowl- 
 edgment of the introduction received a fleet- 
 ing glance from six pairs of diffident eyes 
 and a quick jerk from six slickly brushed 
 heads. 
 
 Mrs. Bohm took her seat at the foot of the 
 long oil-cloth-covered table, and old Mr, 
 Bohm sat at the head. Fortunate for me 
 that Owen and I sat side by side. If once 
 during that meal I had caught his eye, I 
 should have disgraced myself forever. 
 
 Except old Bohm, no one said anything. 
 Indeed, no one had a chance, for he talked 
 all the time, telling stories, cracking jokes at 
 which he laughed immoderately, interspers- 
 ing his conversation with waves of his fork, 
 with which from time to time he reflectively 
 combed his beard. I could not take my 
 eyes off him; there was a weird fascination 
 in following the movements of that fork. 
 
22 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 It was prescience which led me to do so, for 
 old Bohm suddenly ceased using it as a toilet 
 article and jabbed it into a piece of meat, 
 which he held out toward me. 
 
 "Here, Mrs. Brook, have some more beef. 
 I've been talkin' along here and clean forgot 
 you folks must be hungry." I assured him I 
 couldn't eat another bite. It was the most 
 truthful statement of my life. 
 
 That night I lay awake for hours, thinking 
 over the day's experiences, and incidentally 
 trjring to find a spot on the mattress where 
 a lump did not threaten to press a rib out of 
 place. At last I fell asleep, to be suddenly 
 awakened by the slam of a gate under our 
 window, followed by an exclamation which 
 floated up out of the grey dawn: "By hell, 
 but this is a fine day." Then came the 
 squeak of the pump handle, as old Bohm per- 
 formed his morning ablutions, more slams of 
 the gate, and more salutations of the same 
 order in varying phraseology, but always be- 
 ginning with "By hell." 
 
 Shades of my ministerial ancestors ! Was 
 ^s the language of the new country in 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS 23 
 
 which we had come to live? Surely the 
 great adventure promised startling sensa- 
 tions at the outset, to say nothing of a cer- 
 tain sliding scale of standards. 
 
 Owen stirred and asked sleepily what on 
 earth I was doing up at that hour of the 
 day. 
 
 "Changing my viewpoint," I replied, look- 
 ing out toward old Bohm's shadowy figure 
 on its way toward the corral. "That has to 
 be done early." 
 
II 
 
 A SURPRISE PARTY 
 
 WE were living in the land of the 
 unexpected. Six weeks on the ranch 
 demonstrated that. The possibili- 
 ties for surprise were inexhaustible, and the 
 probabilities innumerable and certain, if 
 Owen happened to be away. 
 
 On one of these occasions the cook eloped 
 with the best rider on the place, more thrill- 
 ing and upsetting to my peace of mind than 
 the cloud-burst and flood that followed soon 
 after. Twenty-two husky and hungry men 
 wanted three square meals a day, and 
 one inexperienced bride stood between them 
 and starvation. The situation was mutu- 
 ally serious. 
 
 In my need came help. Tex, our coach- 
 man on that first drive, saved the day. 
 Shortly after the elopement he came in for 
 supplies for the cow-camp. I was almost 
 24 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY 25 
 
 hidden by pans of potatoes, and was paring 
 away endlessly. He was very quiet when I 
 explained, but after supper he gathered up 
 the dishes to wash them for me, looking 
 very serious. When he had finished, he 
 suddenly turned to me: 
 
 "Say, Mrs. Brook, I've just been studyin'. 
 Jack Brent kin cook for the boys out at camp 
 all right, and if you kin stand it, I kin come 
 in and cook for you. It sure got my goat to 
 see you rastlin' with them potatoes and 
 wearin' yourself out cookin' for these here 
 men." 
 
 Good old Tex! That was little short of 
 saintly. Camp cooking where he was auto- 
 crat was far more to his taste. He hated 
 "messin' 'round where there was women," 
 as he expressed it. Here was sacrifice in- 
 deed! Tex scrubbed his hands until they 
 fairly bled, enveloped himself in a large 
 checked gingham apron, and proceeded to 
 act as chef until the eloper had been 
 replaced. 
 
 Something deepened in me. I was seeing 
 a new thing. 
 
26 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 Owen had been gone nearly a week. One 
 morning I happened to be in the kitchen 
 when Mrs. Bohm entered. Casually she 
 asked Tex whether Ed More's wife had left 
 him before he went to jail, or after he got 
 out. Half in joke, I said: 
 
 "Mercy, Mrs. Bohm, is there a man in this 
 country, with the exception of Tex, who 
 hasn't been in jail or on the way there ?" 
 
 I was interrupted by the slamming of a 
 door, and Tex had vanished. Mrs. Bohm 
 looked embarrassed as she replied: 
 
 "I just hate to tell you, Mrs. Brook, and 
 Tex would feel terrible to have you know; 
 but you say such queer things sometimes, I'd 
 better tell you now that Tex" — she paused a 
 moment — "he's only been out of the 'pen' 
 himself a year." 
 
 "Tex in the penitentiary? What on earth 
 for?" I was almost dazed. 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you." Mrs. Bohm began 
 the story with apparent reluctance, but her 
 manner soon betrayed a certain zest. "You 
 see, about four years ago Tex was workin' 
 for a man up on Crow Creek and took some 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY 27 
 
 cattle on to Omaha to sell for him. When 
 he came back he never brought a cent of 
 money, and told how he had been held up 
 and robbed. Everybody believed it at first, 
 then all to onct his family — ^they live over 
 West — ^began to dress to kiU, and Tex bought 
 brass beds for every room in the house ; then 
 folks began to suspicion where he got the 
 money, and he was sent to the Pen for two 
 years." 
 
 Poor old Tex! Who would ever have sup- 
 posed a secret longing for brass beds would 
 prove his undoing? I might have guessed 
 horses or cards, but never brass beds. I 
 almost felt the breath of tragedy. She 
 seemed sweeping by. 
 
 Mrs. Bohm went on: "Tex's mighty good 
 to his family, though, and it most killed him 
 when his wife went off with a Mexican 
 sheep-herder while he was doin' time. She's 
 back home now with the girls, but her and 
 Tex's separated. Ain't it a fright the way 
 women acts?" 
 
 "It certainly is," I agreed, trsnng to recon- 
 cile my previous idea of convicts with having 
 
28 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 one for a cook. It was dreadfully confusing 
 and disturbing. In spite of what I had just 
 heard, I knew I trusted Tex. He would 
 never steal from us, I felt sure. And my 
 instinct told me he would be a true and 
 loyal friend. There was no apparent excuse 
 for what he had done, but he had paid for 
 his moment of weakness more fully perhaps 
 than anyone realized. I pondered over it. 
 
 Presently he catne in, with a curious, 
 troubled expression on his face. I gave him 
 the orders, as usual, with no sign of having 
 heard of the cloud under which he had lived 
 for three miserable years. Our relations 
 were re-established. I could see his relief. 
 
 We were still taking our meals in the 
 kitchen, although the house was gradually 
 being remodeled. It was Saturday evening, 
 and we were expecting Owen home. There 
 was an air of suppressed excitement among 
 the men. One, and then another, bolted 
 from the table and out of the door, return- 
 ing in a shame-faced manner to explain that 
 he "thought he heered somethin'." Cer- 
 tainly Owen's coming would never produce 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY 29 
 
 such a sensation, unless he was expected to 
 arrive in an airship. I was more than ever 
 mystified. 
 
 After the meal was over, there was such 
 a general shaving — ^also in the kitchen — and 
 such donning of red neckties, that I could 
 not restrain my curiosity. I called Tex 
 aside and asked him where they were going. 
 He looked a little sheepish, as he replied: 
 
 "Why, we ain't goin' nowhere." Then in 
 a burst of confidence, "I don't know as I'd 
 orter tell you, but the fact is, you folks is 
 goin' to be surprised; all the folks 'round is 
 goin' to have a party here, and we're 
 expectin' 'em." 
 
 I gasped. A sudden suspicion flashed 
 through my mind. 
 
 "Tex, did you plan this? What on earth 
 shall I do?" 
 
 Tex saw I was really troubled. "Why, 
 Mrs. Brook," he said, "you don't have to do 
 nothin'. Just turn the house over to 'em, 
 and along about midnight I'll make some 
 coffee — ^they'll bring baskets," 
 
 I was relieved to know that they only 
 
30 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 wanted the house, and would provide their 
 own refreshments, for it was appalling to be 
 an impromptu hostess to an entire commu- 
 nity and to speculate upon the possibility of 
 one small cold roast and chocolate cake satis- 
 fying a crowd of young people, after drives 
 of thirty miles or more across the prairie. 
 
 "Me and the boys" — Tex spoke somewhat 
 apologetically, as he started toward the 
 door — "we kind a thought maybe you and 
 Mr. Brook would like to get acquainted, 
 seein's how you're goin' to live here; but I 
 guess we oughten to have did what we 
 done." 
 
 I felt ashamed of my momentary pertur- 
 bation, as the force of that last sentence of 
 Tex's reached me. These men of the plains 
 were as simple and sensitive as children 
 about many things. They would really 
 grieve if they felt this affair, planned solely 
 on our account, gave us no pleasure. I 
 hastened to reassure him. 
 
 "It was mighty nice of you men to think 
 of it," I said, cheerfully. "We do want to 
 know the people in the country, and we are 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY 31 
 
 going to enjoy every moment. I was 'sur- 
 prised' before the party began, that's all." 
 
 Tex went out satisfied, grinning broadly. 
 
 To my good fortune, Owen arrived before 
 the guests came. I told him what was about 
 to befall us. His expression was dubious. 
 All he said was "Thunder." 
 
 Owen and one of the men had been driv- 
 ing about the country all the week, buying 
 horses suitable to turn in on a Government 
 cavalry contract. The night before they had 
 spent on the floor of a cold railroad station, 
 wrapped up in their blankets, with a lighted 
 lantern under the covering at their feet. 
 Their sleep was somewhat broken, with 
 either cremation or freezing pending that 
 cold September night. Poor Owen ! He was 
 completely worn out. And now he had to go 
 through a surprise party. 
 
 At eight o'clock, Tex, self-appointed mas- 
 ter of ceremonies, ushered in the first arriv- 
 als. They were a tall, lean chap and two very 
 much be-curled young misses. I made trials 
 without number at conversation, but they 
 could only be induced to say "Yes" and "No." 
 
32 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 From eight until ten they came, — ranch- 
 men, cow-punchers, ex-cow-punchers run- 
 ning their own outfits, infant cow-punp>"irs, 
 girls and women, until kitchen and sitting 
 room were filled to overfiowing, and every 
 chair and bench on the place in use. Among 
 the last to arrive was a tall, languid Texan, 
 accompanied by two languid, drab-colored 
 women. They were presented to us as 
 "Robert, Missus Reed and Maggie." "Mag- 
 gie," I immediately concluded, was a sister, 
 but not being quite certain, I sought enlight- 
 enment from Mrs. Bohm. 
 
 "She ain't Reed's sister," she informed 
 me in a low tone, "she's his girl." 
 
 "Oh, works for them, you mean?" I said, 
 somewhat puzzled by the Reed ccpnections. 
 
 "Works nothin'," Mrs. Bohm replied, 
 scornfully. "She's got the next place to 
 'em and goes with 'em everywhere. Ella 
 don't seem to mind. I'd just call her 'Mag- 
 gie' if I was you," and Mrs, Bohm departed 
 to join a group of women near the door. 
 
 I looked over at the two with a new 
 interest. They were chatting and laughing 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY 33 
 
 together, the "girl" and the wife seemingly 
 on the best of terms, with no sign of rivalry 
 for the tall Texan's aifections. Here was a 
 situation fraught with latent possibilities 
 that made me tremble, yet — "Ella don't 
 seem to mind." 
 
 The kitchen had been converted into a 
 ballroom by moving the table up against the 
 wall and placing three chairs upon it. Un- 
 fortunately the sink and stove were fixtures, 
 but everything else, including the bread jar, 
 found a temporary resting place in the yard. 
 
 Old Bohm, with his fiddle under his arm, 
 gingerly ascended the table first. Then an- 
 other man followed with a similar instru- 
 ment; and last came a youth with a mouth 
 harp. No fatality having resulted from the 
 musicians taking their seats, the dancing 
 began. 
 
 The music, if such a combination of sounds 
 can be dignified by that name, was such as 
 to defy description. Never in the wildest 
 flights of fancy could I have conceived of 
 such execution and such sounds. The two 
 men sawed their violins, and the third was 
 
34 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 purple in the face from his efforts on the 
 mouth-harp; all were stamping time with 
 their feet, and he of the harp was slapping 
 his knee with his unoccupied hand. 
 
 Before every dance a council was held, 
 after which each musician would play the 
 tune decided upon, as best suited to his taste. 
 Old Bohm tried to get to the end in the 
 shortest time possible, while the second 
 fiddler, taking things more seriously, finished 
 four or five bars behind his companion. 
 The harpist, not playing "second" to any- 
 thing or anybody, had his own opinion as to 
 how "A Hot Time in the Old Town" should 
 go. With these independent views, the re- 
 sult was a series of the most discordant 
 sounds that ever fell on mortal ears. How- 
 ever, music mattered little, for all had come 
 to have a good time, and the "caller-out," 
 with both eyes shut tight and arms folded 
 across his breast, was making himself 
 heard above all other sounds. 
 
 "Birdie in the center and all hands 
 around!" he commanded. Then fiddles and 
 mouth harp began a wild jig, couples raced 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY 35 
 
 'round and 'round, while "Birdie," a blond 
 
 and blushing maiden, stood patiently in the 
 
 midst of the whirling circle, until the next 
 
 order came: 
 
 "Birdie hop out and Crow hop inl 
 Take holt of paddies and run around agin." 
 
 "Crow" was a broad, heavy-set cow- 
 puncher, wearing chaps, and in the endeavor 
 to "run around agin," I found my progress 
 somewhat impeded by his spurs, which 
 caught in my skirt and very nearly upset me. 
 
 All the riders wore their heavy boots and 
 spurs, and it required real agility to avoid 
 being stepped on or having one's skirt torn 
 to ribbons. I was devoutly thankful that 
 chiffon and tulle ball gowns were not worn 
 on ranches. 
 
 There was more to avoid than spurs. We 
 had to dance about the kitchen and avoid 
 the stove, the sink and the tabled musicians, 
 to say nothing of the nails in the floor. 
 But after a few hours' practice, I began 
 to feel qualified to waltz on top of the House 
 of the Seven Gables, and avoid at least 
 six of them. 
 
36 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 Finally, the caller-out shouted loudly: 
 
 "AUemande, Joe! Right hand to pardner and 
 around you go. 
 Balance to corners, don't be slack; 
 Turn right around and take a back track. 
 When you git home, don't be afraid. 
 Swing her agin and all promenade." 
 
 My partner obeyed every command with 
 such vigor that when at last he led me to 
 my seat I was panting and dizzy; nor had I 
 quite recovered my breath when the music 
 struck up again, and Tex led me forth. 
 
 The exertion of the first quadrille had been 
 too much for his comfort, so he had dis- 
 pensed with both collar and coat. His 
 trousers and vest bore evidence of having 
 seen many a round-up, and his shirt, which 
 had once been white, was now multi-colored. 
 In the wonderful red ascot tie which encir- 
 cled his neck were stuck four scarfpins, one 
 above the other. There being nothing to 
 hold the loop of the tie in place, it gradually 
 worked up the back of his head, until its 
 progress was stopped by the edge of a small 
 skull-cap, which Tex wore as the crowning 
 feature of his costume. The cap, tilted 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY 37 
 
 slightly to one side, gave him a rakish ap- 
 pearance, quite in contrast with his air of 
 importance and responsibility. 
 
 I danced — my head fairly spins when I 
 think how I danced — ^for, since the party 
 was given in our honor, dance I must with 
 every man who asked me, 
 
 Owen, not being a dancing man, made 
 himself agreeable to the waU-flowers and the 
 children, stealing upstairs about once an 
 hour for a few moments' nap on the bed- 
 room floor. The beds themselves were occu- 
 pied by sleeping infants, whose mothers 
 were going through the intricate mazes of 
 those dances below. 
 
 At one o'clock Tex began to make the 
 coffee, whereupon the musicians descended 
 from the table, and the expectant party sat 
 down. But where were their baskets? My 
 heart sank, as Tex approached holding a 
 very small one. He informed me in a stage 
 whisper it was all there was ! 
 
 The basket contained a cake and one wee 
 chick, evidently fried soon after leaving the 
 shell. It was the smallest chicken I ever 
 
38 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 saw. I hastily produced our cake and roast, 
 and then took one despairing look around at 
 the forty individuals to be fed. I shall 
 never be able to explain it, unless Tex had 
 an Aladdin's lamp concealed in his pocket, 
 for cake, roast and chicken appeared to be 
 inexhaustible, and the supply more than 
 equaled the demand. 
 
 I was aroused from my contemplation of 
 the miracle by a feminine voice, the speaker 
 saying half to herself and half to me : 
 
 "It took me most two hours to iron Nell's 
 dress this momin', but I sure got a pretty 
 'do' on it." Following her beaming glance, 
 I found that it rested on a mass of ruffles, 
 which adorned the dress of "Birdie" of that 
 first quadrille. Just then the music began 
 again, and I saw Ed Lay ask her to dance. 
 I trusted, after all that work, the 'do' 
 wouldn't be undone by his spurs; still the 
 effort had not been wasted, for this was the 
 fifth time he had danced with her. 
 
 No doting mother could have taken more 
 pride in the debut of an only child, than this 
 work-worn sister whose eyes sparkled as 
 
A SURPRISE PARTY 39 
 
 they followed "Birdie's" whirling figure held 
 firmly by the encircling arm of the cow- 
 puncher, and she murmured softly with a 
 half sigh, "Ain't it grand?" To me it was 
 "grand" indeed, that even an embryo ro- 
 mance could bring a new light to those tired 
 eyes. 
 
 It was six o'clock Sunday morning when 
 one most thoughtful person suggested that 
 "they'd orter be goin' " ; and by seven the 
 last guest had departed. Then Owen and I, 
 weary and heavy-eyed, donned our wraps, 
 climbed into the wagon, and started on a 
 sixteen-mile drive to the railroad to meet 
 his brother, who was coming from California 
 to see "how we were making it." 
 
 I was almost too tired to speak, but one 
 thought was struggling for expression, and 
 as we started up the first long hill, I had to 
 say: 
 
 "Anyone who ever spoke of the 'peace and 
 quiet of ranch life' lived in New York and 
 dreamed about it. In twenty-four hours I 
 have discovered that we have an ex-convict 
 for a trusted cook, and have received as 
 
40 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 guests a man with his wife and resident 
 affinity. We have had a surprise party and 
 I have danced with all the blemished char- 
 acters the country boasts of, until six o'clock 
 in the morning of the Sabbath day, with 
 never a qualm of conscience. What do you 
 suppose has become of my moral standards ?" 
 
 Owen was amused. He asked me, quizzi- 
 cally, what I thought they would be by the 
 end of a year. 
 
 "Mercy!" I replied, "at the rate they are 
 being overthrown, there won't be enough 
 left to consider, unless" — ^I thought a mo- 
 ment — "unless I can reconstruct a more 
 enduring set from parts of the old." 
 
Ill 
 
 THE ROOT CELLAR 
 
 • •T^OR East is East and West is 
 ■ 1 West, and never the twain shall 
 meet." The phrase kept haunt- 
 ing me all through these first days when 
 everything was so new and strange. I 
 almost felt as though I had passed into a 
 new phase of existence. 
 
 Except for Owen, there was no point of 
 contact between the world of cities and peo- 
 ple I had just left and this land of cattle and 
 cow-punchers, bounded by the sky-rimmed 
 hills. In Owen, however, the East and the 
 West did meet. He understood and be- 
 longed to both and adapted himself as 
 easily to the one as to the other. Wearing 
 his derby, he belonged to the life of the 
 East; in his broad-brimmed Stetson, he was 
 a living part of the West. 
 
 The compelling reality of this new life 
 41 
 
42 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 affected me deeply. Non-essentials counted 
 for nothing. There were no artificial prob- 
 lems or values. 
 
 No one in the country cared who you 
 might have been or who you were. The 
 Mayflower and Plymouth Rock meant 
 nothing here. It would be thought you were 
 speaking of some garden flowers or some 
 breed of chickens. 
 
 The one thing of vital importance was 
 what you were — how you adjusted yourself 
 to meet conditions as you found them, and 
 how nearly you reached, or how far you fell 
 below their measure of man or woman. 
 
 I felt as though up to this time I had been 
 in life's kindergarten, but that I had now 
 entered into its school, and I realized that 
 only as I passed the given tests should I 
 succeed. 
 
 I learned much from the rough, untutored 
 men with whom I was in daily association. 
 They were men whose rules of conduct 
 were governed by individual choice, unham- 
 pered by conventions. They were so direct 
 and honest, so unfailingly kind and gentle 
 
THE ROOT CELLAR 43 
 
 toward any weaker thing, and so simple and 
 responsive, that I liked and trusted them 
 from the first. All but old Bohm, the man 
 from whom we were buying. He was such 
 a totally different type that he seemed a 
 man apart. The son of a German father 
 and an Irish mother, he had inherited a 
 nature too complex and contradictory to be 
 easily fathomed. 
 
 Mrs. Bohm, with her white, calm face and 
 gentle voice, attracted me, but her husband 
 aroused in both Owen and me an instinctive 
 distrust. He was good nature personified, a 
 most companionable person, with his easy, 
 contagious laugh, his amusing stories, quick 
 wit, and breezy air of good fellowship. He 
 could quote Bums, Scott, and other poets by 
 the hour, and fiddle away on his violin, until 
 we were nearly moved to tears. He was 
 almost too good-natured; he didn't quite 
 ring true. I noticed that while he always 
 referred or spoke to his wife affectionately, 
 as "my old mammy," her attitude toward 
 him was rather impersonal. She called him 
 "James" with quiet dignity, but seldom 
 
44 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 talked with him, and appeared to take very 
 little interest. 
 
 On the side of a hill, some distance from 
 the house, was an old root cellar, used, 
 according to Bohm, for storing potatoes, 
 turnips, and other vegetables for winter. It 
 was most inconveniently located; there were 
 hillsides much nearer, and considering that 
 the cellar under the house was always used 
 for such purposes, it seemed strange that 
 another should be needed so far away. I 
 was possessed with a desire to explore it. 
 It suggested hidden treasures and Indian 
 relics, which I was collecting. 
 One day I was poised on the top of the cellar 
 step, about to descend into its mysterious 
 depths. 
 
 Old Bohm appeared. "Was you lookin' 
 for something' ?" he asked, somewhat out of 
 breath. 
 
 "Oh, no," I replied, going down a few 
 steps. "I was just exploring, and thought I 
 would investigate this old root cellar." 
 
 "I thought that was what you was goin' 
 to do, and I hurried up to tell you to be 
 
THE ROOT CELLAR 45 
 
 awful careful of rattlesnakes; there's a pile 
 of 'em 'round these here old cellars." Bohm 
 spoke with apparent solicitude. 
 
 "Heavens! I wouldn't go down there for 
 anything!" I exclaimed, — and I got out of 
 the cellarway as quickly as possible. 
 
 Old Bohm looked down the steps at the 
 strong, closed door of heavy boards. 
 
 "Oh, maybe it would be all right. Yoii 
 could listen for 'em and jump, if you heard 
 'em rattle," he remarked, casually. 
 
 I shook my head. "Not much; I don't 
 want to hear them rattle," and I started 
 toward the house. 
 
 Bohm went up toward the wind-mill. As 
 I turned away I caught a curious expression 
 on his face — a faint gleam of something. 
 
 As I came through the meadow gate, 
 Owen was getting into the buggy. 
 
 "Hello," he called, "I've been looking for 
 you everywhere. I have to drive over to 
 Three Bar. Do you want to go ?" 
 
 I was always ready to go anywhere, so 
 while Owen was driving the horses about, I 
 ran in to get my hat. 
 
46 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 Not one of our horses was thoroughly 
 broken, so we always had to follow the same 
 method of procedure before starting any- 
 where. After the horses were hitched up, 
 Charley, to whom fell odd jobs of every sort, 
 stood at their heads until Owen was fairly 
 seated and had the lines firmly in his hands. 
 Then, after a few ineffectual attempts to 
 kick or run down Charley before he could 
 get out of the way, off dashed the horses 
 around and around the open space between 
 the house and the pond, until a little of the 
 edge had been taken off their spirits. Then 
 Owen stopped them for one moment, I made 
 a quick jump into the buggy, and away we 
 went at top speed toward the gate that 
 Charley had run to open. We usually missed 
 the post by a quarter of an inch, and at that 
 juncture I invariably shut my eyes and held 
 my breath. 
 
 The road to Three Bar Ranch led to 
 the North and wound up a very long hill, 
 then across a rolling mesa. The prairie was 
 covered with short grama grass, just turn- 
 ing a faint brown, the yellow sunflowers and 
 
THE ROOT CELLAR 47 
 
 great clumps of rattleweed, with its spikes 
 of lovely purple, giving a touch of color to 
 the scene before us. The Spanish bayonet 
 dotted the hillsides, and over aU hung the 
 summer sky like burnished copper. The 
 only sound, aside from that of the horses' 
 hoofs and the crunch of the wheels on the 
 soft prairie road, was the occasional song 
 of the meadow lark, all the joy of the sum- 
 mer day sounding in its one short thrilling 
 note. In the gulches, where the grass grew 
 deep and rank, the wind tossed it softly, and 
 it rippled and sparkled in the shifting light, 
 as water gleams in the sun. Everything 
 was so still that animation seemed for the 
 time suspended, as we drove along silenced 
 by the spell of the prairies. 
 
 Three Bar, one of the oldest ranches 
 in the country, stood against the side of a 
 hill. It was a long, low structure of logs 
 built in the prevailing fashion of the early 
 ranch houses, room after room opening into 
 one another, usually with an outside door 
 to each. 
 
 The ranch was owned by the Mortons, 
 
48 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 English people, who were among the earliest 
 settlers in the country. They greeted us 
 most cordially, and as Owen went out to the 
 corral with Mr. Morton to look at some 
 horses, Mrs. Morton took me into the house. 
 
 The room we entered had very little 
 furniture, but was redeemed from bareness 
 by a wonderful old stone fireplace at one 
 end. 
 
 ""Mrs. Morton was short and heavy set. 
 "Spotless" was the only word her appear- 
 ance suggested when I first saw her. Her 
 skin was as fair as a child's, while her hair 
 was as white as the apron she wore. 
 
 Her flow of conversation was unceasing, 
 and I was reminded of a remark that Charley 
 made to me when the telephone was first 
 put in over the fence lines. 
 
 "Old lady Morton talked so fast that she 
 ripped all the barbs off the wire." Before I 
 had time to reply to one question, she had 
 asked another, and was off on an entirely 
 different subject. I suppose the accumu- 
 lated conversation of months was vented on 
 my innocent head, for she told me, poor 
 
THE ROOT CELLAR 49 
 
 thing, that she hadn't seen another woman 
 since Christmas, 
 
 "Us" — she never said we — "us never visits 
 the neighbors, but was coming up to see you, 
 Mrs. Brook, for us heard you and Mr. Brook 
 was different. Us lives out here on a ranch, 
 but us knows when people are the right 
 kind." 
 
 I didn't know whether to be considered 
 "different" was desirable, or not, and I was 
 dying to ask her what constituted "the right 
 kind," but had no time before she sud- 
 denly asked: 
 
 "Have the Bohms gone? Us was waiting 
 till they went." 
 
 I explained that they were still on the 
 ranch, as Mr. Bohm had to gather and 
 counterbrand all the stock before turning it 
 over to Owen, and that he had been delayed. 
 
 Mrs. Morton gave a little grunt of con- 
 tempt. "Old Bohm won't hurry any while 
 he's getting free board. He may be with 
 you all winter. Us hopes Mr. Brook won't 
 be imposed on. He's a smart man, old Jim 
 Bohm is, but he's a bad one." 
 
50 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 "Bad one?" I repeated, inwardly praying 
 that the Bohms would not be permanent 
 guests. 
 
 "Old Jim Bohm is a bad man," Mrs. Mor- 
 ton said again, rocking violently back and 
 forth, "I was here when they came. She's 
 all right, but there is nothing he won't do. 
 Why" — ^her voice sank to a whisper — "six- 
 teen men have been traced as far as that 
 ranch and never been heard of again, and 
 Jim Bohm's been getting richer all along." 
 
 Mrs. Morton scarcely paused for breath, so 
 I couldn't have said anything. But I was 
 speechless, anyhow. 
 
 "Not one of them, not one," she declared, 
 "was ever heard of again, and if you were 
 to examine that old root cellar on the hill, 
 you'd find out what I say is true." 
 
 The incident of the morning flashed across 
 my mind, and I felt as though a piece of ice 
 were being drawn slowly along my spine. 
 
 "How perfectly horrible!" I managed to 
 gasp, "but it can't be true." 
 
 "It's true, all right." There was no doubt- 
 ing Mrs. Morton's conviction. "There's facts 
 
THE ROOT CELLAR 51 
 
 there's no getting 'round. Jim Bohm and 
 old Happy Dick, that used to work for him, 
 came up here over the trail from Texas with 
 a band of horses that Bohm and another 
 man owned. The other fellow was with 
 them when they started, but Bohm said 
 he died on the way, and that's all anyone 
 knows about it, except that old Bohm kept 
 all the horses." 
 
 "Then a few years later, a young fellow 
 that was consumptive, came out to work for 
 them. I know he had quite a bit of money, 
 because he stopped here once to ask John 
 what to do with it. He hadn't been there 
 very long before he dropped dead, according 
 to Jim Bohm's story. His folks back East 
 tried to get the money, but Bohm said the 
 fellow owed it to him, and they couldn't do 
 a thing about it." 
 
 I sat as if petrified, unable to take my eyes 
 from Mrs. Morton's face, as she went on 
 and on. 
 
 "He was in with all the rustlers in the 
 country," she continued, "and once when a 
 posse was hunting a man who had stole a 
 
52 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 lot of horses, Bohm tried his best to keep 
 them from searching the place, but the 
 Sheriff told him they would arrest him if 
 he made any more fuss about it, so he had 
 to keep still. When they came to the hay- 
 mow, they stuck a pitchfork right into a 
 man hidden in the hay, and old Bohm swore 
 he didn't know a thing about his being 
 there. The next us heard, old Bill Law had 
 dropped dead in the corral. I tell you" — 
 Mrs. Morton leaned forward and shook her 
 finger in my face — "it's mighty funny, the 
 way men keeps dropping dead over there; 
 they don't do it anywhere else. Happy Dick 
 was the last. About a year ago he told Mor- 
 ton he'd stole two men rich, and now he was 
 going to steal himself rich. But two days 
 after he was found dead in the willows, and 
 Bohm said that when he came upon the body, 
 Happy Dick had been dead for hours." 
 
 Mrs. Morton showed signs of running 
 down for a moment, so I hastened to ask 
 why it was that, though suspicion always 
 pointed toward him, old Bohm had never 
 been arrested. 
 
THE ROOT CELLAR 53 
 
 "Jim Bohm's too smooth," Mrs. Morton 
 answered. "If you found him with a smok- 
 ing gun in his hand and a man dead on the 
 ground beside him, he'd lie out of it some- 
 how; probably would swear that as he came 
 up, he saw the man shoot himself. Oh ! he's 
 a slick one. Us always said us pitied any- 
 one who had business dealings with him, 
 but," she stopped as she saw Owen and Mr. 
 Morton coming up the walk, "Mr. Brook 
 looks like a man that can take care of him- 
 self. I'd watch out for Bohm, though. 
 Watch out for him !" 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Morton," I said, as 
 Owen came to the door. "I am glad you 
 told me. Please come to see us," and with 
 conflicting emotions I prepared to leave 
 Three Bar Ranch. 
 
 I scarcely knew what to think. I was 
 worried, and yet 
 
 When I told Owen I expected him to pooh- 
 pooh the story and relieve my mind, but he 
 did nothing of the sort. With a queer 
 little wrinkle between his eyes, he listened 
 attentively. 
 
54 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 "Owen, you don't think there is any truth 
 in it, do you?" I asked, much troubled by 
 his silence. He flicked a fly off Dan's back 
 before replying: 
 
 "I don't know what to think. The old 
 chap's a rascal, there's no doubt about that; 
 but I didn't suppose he was a cold-blooded 
 murderer." 
 
 Again I felt the ice go up and down my 
 spine. "Great heavens, Owen, can't you 
 have someone go through the root cellar, to 
 see if there is anything out of the way 
 there ? And, above all, get the stock gathered 
 and ship Bohm — ^I despise him, anyhow!" 
 
 "Don't let it worry you," said Owen; 
 "probably it's all mere talk. Bohm won't 
 bother us ; and in a few weeks the stock will 
 all be turned over and he'll have no excuse 
 for staying." 
 
 "A few weeks is a long time," I said, 
 gloomily, feeling as if my hold on life were 
 gradually slipping. "According to Mrs. 
 Morton, everybody on the place might drop 
 dead in less time than that." 
 
 Owen laughed, but the next moment a 
 
THE ROOT CELLAR 55 
 
 shadow crossed his face, and he said 
 decisively: 
 
 "I'm going to look into that root-cellar 
 business. I want to have the place thor- 
 oughly cleaned out, anyhow." 
 
 The boys were going in to supper when 
 we drove up. Charley came to take the 
 horses, and Owen greeted him: 
 
 "Well, how's everything?" 
 
 "Oh, all right," answered Charley indif- 
 ferently, as he started to loosen the tugs. 
 "Nothin's happened since you folks went 
 away, only the old root cellar's caved in." 
 
 Speech was impossible. Owen and I stood 
 as if petrified, looking at each other. We 
 turned to go up to the house. I felt as 
 though some wretched fate were making 
 game of us. As we entered the door, Owen 
 spoke : 
 
 "Esther" — ^he was very serious — "don't 
 say a word or betray any interest whatever 
 in this matter. After supper is over, I'll go 
 up to investigate." 
 
 Talk about the skeleton at a feast! There 
 
56 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 were sixteen horrid, grinning things around 
 the table that night, besides a few that Mrs. 
 Morton had overlooked. 
 
 Mrs. Bohm was whiter than usual and 
 very quiet. Old Bohm was in high spirits. 
 We were scarcely seated before he declared 
 it "a damn shame" that the old root cellar 
 had to cave in. 
 
 We showed a little surprise, but affected 
 unconcern. Playing the role assigned to me, 
 I remarked indifferently that we never used 
 it, anyhow, and with this Bohm cheerfully 
 agreed. 
 
 Later, when Owen went up to examine 
 the cellar, I noticed, from my point of obser- 
 vation at the window, that old Bohm was 
 close by his side. 
 
 Soon after Owen came in looking very 
 grave. 
 
 "Well, it caved in, all right, and it never 
 can be cleaned out. But there's one thing I 
 am convinced of" — and he looked toward the 
 hill with a frown — "it didn't cave in of 
 itself." 
 
rv 
 
 THE GREAT ADVENTURE PROGRESSES 
 
 JOHN, the mail carrier, was our only 
 connecting link with the great outside 
 world. Three times a week he brought 
 the mail. From the first sight of a tiny- 
 speck on the top of the distant hill, our 
 hearts thrilled. I watched it grow larger 
 and larger, until the two-wheeled cart 
 stopped at the garden gate. With hands 
 trembling with impatience, I unlocked the 
 old, worn bag, which John threw on the floor. 
 
 I was the honorable Postmistress. My 
 desk was covered with Postal Laws, which I 
 almost learned by heart. I had the New 
 England respect for the Federal prison, the 
 place of correction for delinquent Postal 
 employees. 
 
 One rule was absolute. The key of the 
 mail bag had to be securely attached to the 
 Post Office. My Post Office was a wooden 
 57 
 
58 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 cracker box, which held the mail for the few 
 outside patrons. 
 
 The inspector of Post Offices arrived un- 
 announced one day. He frowningly looked 
 over my accounts, while I stood by in per- 
 turbation. Suddenly he caught sight of the 
 key at the end of a long brass chain 
 "securely attached to the Post Office." He 
 got up to investigate. The frown disap- 
 peared by magic, and a smile played around 
 his stem mouth. He burst into laughter. 
 I explained I was very careful to comply 
 with all the regulations. He gave me a 
 humorous glance — and stayed to dinner. 
 
 The papers on Monday evening brought us 
 exciting news. A train on the U. P. had 
 been held up at a lonely station, thirty miles 
 from our ranch. All the Pullman passen- 
 gers had been robbed and one man shot and 
 killed. The hold-ups had escaped and were 
 at large in the "country adjoining." 
 
 "If they are in the country adjoining, 
 they'll come here eventually," I remarked to 
 Owen. "This ranch is a perfect magnet for all 
 the questionable characters in the vicinity." 
 
THE GREAT ADVENTURE 59 
 
 Owen thanked me for the compliment and 
 went out to the bunk house to interview 
 Robert Reed, now in charge of the hay gang. 
 
 This Reed was an interesting fellow, — a 
 natural leader of men, and so eflBcient that 
 Owen had made him hay foreman. 
 
 When we had driven over to his claim to 
 see him about working for us, Mrs. Reed 
 came out to the buggy, wiping her hands on 
 her apron. 
 
 "No, Bob ain't home this morning," she 
 responded to Owen's inquiry for her hus- 
 band. "I reckon you'll find him over 
 ploughin' for Maggie." A statement made 
 in the most matter-of-fact manner. 
 
 We drove over to another claim shack a 
 mile or so from the Reeds', where Bob was 
 indeed ploughing for Maggie. To him, too, 
 it was quite a matter of course. 
 
 The affinity problem in this country really 
 appeared simple. Mrs. Reed evidently ac- 
 cepted Maggie as a natural factor in the 
 situation, and her marital relations were 
 not disturbed in the least, as long as 
 Bob finished his own ploughing first. That 
 
60 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 woman was truly oriental in her cast of mind. 
 
 Maggie Lane's mother and brother lived 
 near at hand, also. One brother, Tom, was 
 Reed's constant companion. Altogether it 
 was a perfectly harmonious arrangement. 
 
 The Lane family records were not quite 
 clear. Acquaintance revealed that. They 
 all seemed to have a penchant for leaving 
 the straight and narrow path for the broad 
 highway of individual choice. Obviously 
 Maggie's position did not affect her family, 
 nor her social standing in the community. 
 
 Whenever I drove about the country with- 
 out Owen, I took Charley with me on horse- 
 back. Gates were hard to open, and my 
 team of horses was not thoroughly broken. 
 Besides, there were always the possibilities 
 of the unexpected on these lonely prairies. I 
 called Charley my Knight of the Garter. 
 When he knew in advance he was going with 
 me, he went up to the bunkhouse "to slick 
 up." If it chanced to be summer, he 
 emerged without a coat, his blue shirt 
 sleeves held up by a pair of beribboned pink 
 garters, a pair of heavy stamped leather 
 
THE GREAT ADVENTURE 61 
 
 cuffs on his wrists, and a heavy stamped 
 leather collar holding his neck like a vise. 
 
 I suggested one morning that the collar 
 might be uncomfortably warm. He met my 
 objection with scorn. 
 
 "Hot, Mrs. Brook? Why, that ain't hot. 
 You see, the leather kinda ab-sorbs the 
 sweat and makes it nice and cool." 
 
 One day we were out to take the washing 
 to Mrs. Reed. I had asked Bob to take it 
 Saturday night, when he and Tom Lane had 
 "gone over home" to finish that ploughing. 
 I supposed he had done so, but when he came 
 back on Monday, he said he had "plumb for- 
 got it, but would take it next time." 
 
 We had to pass through Maggie's claim on 
 the way. She was standing at her door, as 
 we stopped to open the gate. There was no 
 freshly ploughed ground in sight, and I idly 
 asked if she had finished her ploughing. 
 
 "No," she replied, "I kinda looked for Bob 
 over Sunday to finish it, but I reckon he 
 couldn't get off. I wish you'd tell him to 
 stop here the next time he goes home." 
 
 We drove on, and I wondered what Maggie 
 
62 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 "reckoned" he couldn't get away from, — ^the 
 ranch or his wife. 
 
 I gave Mrs. Reed the clothes and I told 
 her Bob had forgotten to bring them over 
 with him Saturday. She looked at me 
 curiously. 
 
 "Didn't Bob work Sunday?" 
 
 "No," I replied, "none of the men worked 
 Sunday. Tom and Bob both said they were 
 going home." 
 
 Mrs. Reed frowned. 
 
 "Oh, I suppose Maggie had somethin' she 
 wanted him to do." 
 
 Charley started to answer, but my look 
 stopped him. 
 
 "I'll have your clothes ready Saturday." 
 Mrs. Reed slammed the gate and turned 
 toward the house. 
 
 "Gee," said Charley, riding up close beside 
 the buggy, "them two women'll be fightin' 
 over Bob yet, if he ain't careful. Why, 
 that's funny" — he looked at me question- 
 ingly, — "Bob wasn't to Maggie's, either, 
 was he?" 
 
 "No," I answered, "I was just wondering 
 
THE GREAT ADVENTURE 63 
 
 about that myself. Perhaps he went to 
 town, instead." A coyote ran out of a gulch. 
 Charley with a whoop started in pursuit, and 
 the entire incident passed from my mind. 
 
 We were going in to supper, when three 
 men drove up to the door. Whenever 
 strangers appeared, I always had a moment 
 of uncertainty as to whether they were to 
 be sent to the bunkhouse with the men, or 
 invited to our own table. Instantaneous 
 social classification is rather difficult when 
 there are no distinguishing external signs. 
 And it had to be done at the moment. The 
 men asked for Owen. 
 
 We had no idea who they were, so our 
 conversation during supper was limited to 
 impersonal topics, such as the present, past 
 and future weather, the condition of the 
 range and stock — nothing calculated to 
 offend the delicate sensibilities of a Gov- 
 ernor, a ranchman or an ex-convict, inas- 
 much as our guests might come under any 
 of these heads. Entertaining on a ranch is 
 democratic in the extreme. 
 
 They went out with Owen after supper. 
 
64 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 From the window I could see four dim 
 figures sitting on their heels by the corral 
 gate, talking earnestly. 
 
 It was late when they drove away. I was 
 putting up the mail, as Owen entered. His 
 announcement drove all idea of the Postal 
 Laws and regulations out of my head. 
 
 "Well, they've gone, and have taken Bob 
 and Tom Lane with them." 
 
 "Mercy! what for? Who were they, 
 anyhow?" 
 
 "The Sheriff and two Pinkerton men," he 
 answered, gravely. "They have arrested 
 Bob and Tom for the hold-up." 
 
 "Owen," I gasped, standing up so sud- 
 denly that the U. S. mail flew in all direc- 
 tions. "You don't believe they were the 
 ones, do you ?" 
 
 "Not for a minute," Owen answered, with 
 conviction. "And I told them so, but it 
 seems the men have bad records and the 
 description fits them. 'A tall man, with a 
 Southern accent, and a short, slight, smaller 
 man.' So they arrested them." Owen sat 
 down. "It's absurd. In the first place, 
 
THE GREAT ADVENTURE 65 
 
 they couldn't have gotten to the railroad in 
 time to hold up the limited. They didn't 
 leave here until nine o'clock, and in the next 
 place, they went home." 
 
 "But they didn't." I felt suddenly weak 
 in my knees. "I took the clothes over to 
 Mrs. Reed, and both she and Maggie were 
 wondering why they hadn't come." 
 
 Owen looked at me in blank amazement, 
 and then asked why on earth I hadn't told 
 him. 
 
 "Good heavens, Owen, I haven't seen you 
 a moment alone. And, besides, I never sup- 
 posed it made any diiference where the men 
 went. Hereafter if the angel Gabriel comes 
 to work for us, I shall insist upon knowing 
 where he spends his nights. Really," I 
 began to laugh, "you know, if we ever leave 
 this ranch, the only place we shall feel at 
 home is in the penitentiary. None but peo- 
 ple with 'records' and 'pasts' will interest 
 us." I was half amused and wholly excited, 
 for even to have a speaking acquaintance 
 with the leading figures in a hold-up and 
 tourder was something my wildest flight of 
 
66 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 imagination could have scarcely pictured a 
 few months before. Owen was really 
 serious. 
 
 "Well, I must say," he shook his head and 
 looked down at the floor, "it begins to look as 
 though Bob and Tom might have some 
 trouble proving they weren't the men. It's 
 serious for them, since they weren't at 
 home. The description certainly fits them." 
 Owen took up the paper. " 'One man about 
 five feet eight inches high, slender and light 
 mustache, wearing old clothes and a rusty 
 black slouch hat. The other man five feet 
 ten inches tall, slender, short, black mus- 
 tache, about forty years old, spoke with a 
 Southern accent, wore an old black suit and 
 an old striped rubber coat.' " 
 
 "Go on," I said, as Owen started to put the 
 paper down; "I want to hear it." He read 
 on: 
 
 " 'The men were supposed to have boarded 
 the train coming from Denver, at a small 
 station this side of Star. The Pullmans 
 were on the rear. When the train stopped 
 at the station, the Pullman conductor went 
 
THE GREAT ADVENTURE 67 
 
 out on the back platform and saw two men 
 crouching in the vestibule. He told them to 
 get off, but at that moment the train started, 
 and they rose up, covering him with their 
 revolvers. One got behind him, holding his 
 gun against him, the other in front. They 
 handed him a gunny-sack and made him 
 carry it. In this manner they entered the 
 body of the car. 
 
 " 'In the first car they got very little 
 plunder, and pushed on into the next. As 
 they entered the second sleeper, they met 
 the porter, who was forced to elevate his 
 hands and precede them. While they were 
 engaged in robbing the passengers in the 
 second Pullman, the train conductor entered, 
 and was compelled to elevate his hands, with 
 the rest. 
 
 " 'They paused at one berth and seemed 
 very much incensed that the woman it con- 
 tained was so slow in handing over her 
 valuables. They swore and were very im- 
 patient. Suddenly, a man in the next berth 
 thrust his head out between the curtains. 
 He had a revolver in his hand and fired, but 
 
68 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 instantly another shot rang out from the 
 robber in the rear, and the man sank back 
 in his berth. 
 
 " 'After the shooting, the robbers ap- 
 peared more nervous and hurried. When 
 they had gone through the car, they took 
 the gunny-sack and emptied the contents 
 into their pockets. One of the robbers pulled 
 the bell-rope, but evidently not hard enough, 
 for the train continued on its way. Swear- 
 ing, they compelled the porter and two con- 
 ductors to stand out on the platform with 
 them, covered by their revolvers, until the 
 train slowed down at Paxton, when they 
 swung off to the ground and disappeared into 
 these vast prairie lands, which are so 
 sparsely settled one can drive for a day with- 
 out seeing a person. 
 
 " 'As soon as the train stopped, the pas- 
 sengers hurried to the berth of the man who 
 had been shot, but he had been instantly 
 killed. 
 
 " 'The Sheriff was notified, and a posSe 
 started in pursuit, but the robbers had 
 vanished.' " 
 
THE GREAT ADVENTURE 69 
 
 Owen put down the paper, and we sat up 
 far into the night talking it over. 
 
 Subsequently our ranch, our horses, and 
 Owen's opinions were freely quoted in the 
 press. Bob and Tom were positively identi- 
 fied by the three trainmen as the hold-ups. 
 They were retained a week in jail, and then 
 suddenly released on "insufficient proof." 
 
 Owen did not believe in point of time they 
 could have held up the train, for he had 
 talked to Bob that Saturday night until 
 after nine o'clock, but everybody, including 
 Owen, held them capable of it. The point 
 was simply that they had not happened to 
 be there. 
 
 Later Bob and Tom returned to the 
 ranch, incensed at their arrest and deten- 
 tion, but no one ever learned where they 
 were that memorable Saturday night. 
 
 Moreover, the men who held up the train 
 were never found, and again one of those 
 strange tragedies of the West ended in 
 vagueness. 
 
 I was struck by the repetition of that 
 
70 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 phenomenon "A crime, a tragedy." At first 
 indignation and an earnest attempt to find 
 the offenders and bring them to justice, then 
 delay, and the whole affair shoved into the 
 background by something newer. 
 
 Life here seemed to flow by like a stream 
 at flood-tide. Who could stem that current 
 long enough to catch those bits of human 
 frailty floating on the surface, or follow 
 them down stream to the sea? 
 
V 
 A GOVERNMENT CONTRACT 
 
 FROM the first, I had been conscious of 
 a fascination about the West impos- 
 sible to describe. Its charm was too 
 enigmatical and elusive for definition. 
 
 There was a suggestion of the sea in that 
 vast circle and in the long, undulations of 
 the prairie, as though great waves had be- 
 come solidified, then clothed in softest green. 
 No sign of restless movement was apparent 
 in those billows which stretched away from 
 the mountains into the vague distance. All 
 was still. The towering mountain itself 
 was the symbol of infinite peace and rest. 
 Yet there, in the midst of that unbroken 
 serenity, stood a cluster of buildings, the 
 center of the greatest activity, where life 
 was vital and thrilling as though a few 
 human beings had been flung through space 
 and dropped onto those silent plains to 
 71 
 
72 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 work out the age-long fight for existence. 
 
 Peace and conflict, silence and sound, 
 absence of life and life in its most complex 
 form; contrasts — everywhere and in every- 
 thing — it could be defined, it was in "con- 
 trasts" that the fascination of the West 
 was expressed. 
 
 Ranch life might be difficult; it was never 
 commonplace. The mere sight of a lone 
 horseman on a distant hill suggested greater 
 possibilities of excitement than a multitude 
 of people in a city street. 
 
 Each day brought so many new experi- 
 ences, some of comedy, some of tragedy, that 
 I began to look for them. 
 
 After the Government had awarded a con- 
 tract to furnish "150 horses of a dark bay 
 color for cavalry use" our life became dra- 
 matic, with the riders cast in the leading 
 roles. 
 
 The stage-setting consisted of a large 
 circular corral, twelve feet high, built 
 of heavy pitch-pine posts and three-inch 
 planks with a massive snubbing post set 
 in the center. Since there was "standing 
 
A GOVERNMENT CONTRACT 73 
 
 room only," cracks were at a premium. 
 
 The dramatis personae were two tall, 
 slender-waisted cow-punchers who walked 
 with a slightly rolling gait, due to extremely 
 high-heeled boots, much too small for them. 
 In their right hands they carried a coiled 
 rope swinging easily. Their costumes were 
 composed of cloth or corduroy trousers, 
 dark-colored shirts, nondescript vests of 
 some sort, dark blue or red handkerchiefs 
 knotted loosely about their necks, expen- 
 sively-made boots, the tops of which were 
 covered by the legs of their "pants"; spurs, 
 of course; high-priced Stetson hats, the 
 crowns creased to a peak, and frequently 
 encircled by the skin of a rattle-snake, and 
 exceedingly soft gauntlet-gloves. It was 
 my observation that the old-time cow- 
 puncher wore gloves at all times. He did 
 remove them when eating, and, I presume, 
 before going to bed, but they were always 
 in evidence. 
 
 The "Star" is a frightened, snorting 
 "broncho," or unbroken horse which for the 
 five or six years of its life had been running 
 
74 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 loose. Now it was to be "busted." It is 
 cut out from the bunch and run into the 
 corral and the gate securely fastened. 
 
 One of the men stands near the post, the 
 other does the roping. Facing the men, the 
 broncho stands still, his head high, his eyes 
 wild and full of fear. An abrupt motion by 
 one of the riders starts him on a frantic run 
 around and around in a circle. A sudden 
 throw of the rope and both front feet are in 
 the loop. Quick as lightning the man set- 
 tles back on it, both front legs are pulled out 
 from under the horse and he falls on his 
 side; the helper runs to his head, seizes the 
 muzzle and twists it straight up, thrusts one 
 knee against the neck and holds the top of 
 the head to the ground. The roper puts two 
 or three more loops above the front hoofs, 
 passes the rope, now doubled forming a loop, 
 between the legs, to one of the hind feet, 
 then pulls on the end that he has all the time 
 held. This action draws all three feet to- 
 gether. One or two more loops about them, 
 a hitch and the horse is tied so that it is 
 impossible for him to get up. While the 
 
A GOVERNMENT CONTRACT 75 
 
 broncho lies helpless, the saddle and bridle 
 are put on, a large handkerchief passed 
 under the straps of the bridle over the eyes 
 and made fast. The rope is taken off. 
 Feeling a measure of freedom, he staggers 
 to his feet and stands. The cinches are 
 drawn very tight, the rider mounts, gives a 
 sharp order to "let him go," the man on the 
 ground pulls the handkerchief from the eyes 
 of the horse, and jumps aside. 
 
 For a moment the broncho stands dazed, 
 then jumps, throws his head between his 
 front legs almost to the ground, squeals, 
 humps his back and pitches around and 
 around the corral in a vain attempt to rid 
 himself of the fearsome thing on his back. 
 The circular corral, limited in space, gives 
 little opportunity to succeed; the rider has 
 the advantage. The horse stops pitching 
 and runs frantically about the corral, at 
 length tiring himself out. Dripping with 
 sweat, trembling from fear and excitement, 
 he comes to a slow trot. The gate is thrown 
 open. Making a dash for freedom, he 
 plunges through the outside corrals, the 
 
76 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 horseman or "circler" close beside him, try- 
 ing to keep between the half -crazed broncho 
 and any object he might run into. The 
 horse bolts out into the open; his is the 
 advantage now, and he makes the rider ride. 
 He bucks this way and that, twisting, turn- 
 ing, jumping and running, the man on his 
 back so racked and shaken it seems incred- 
 ible that his body can hold together. They 
 tear out over the prairie in a wild race, far 
 off over the hills, out of sight now. After a 
 time they come back on a walk. The broncho 
 has been busted — the act has ended. 
 
 Should the horse rear and throw himself 
 backward, there is the greatest danger that 
 the man may be caught under him and 
 killed, it happens so quickly, but these quiet, 
 diffident chaps are absolutely fearless, past 
 masters in the art of riding, facing death 
 each time they ride a new horse, but facing 
 it with the supreme courage of the common- 
 place, sitting calmly in the saddle, racked, 
 shaken, jolted until at times the blood 
 streams from their nose, yet after a short 
 rest the rider "took up the next one" quite 
 
A GOVERNMENT CONTRACT 77 
 
 as though nothing at all had happened. 
 All the horses had to be broken and then 
 made ready for the inspection of the Gov- 
 ernment officials, and the boys were working 
 with them early and late. 
 
 It was an unusual experience to live in 
 daily association with these men, in whom 
 were combined characteristics of the 
 Knights of the Round Table and those pecu- 
 liar to the followers of Jesse James. 
 
 In Douglas, Wyoming, there stands a 
 monument erected by the friends of a local 
 character who, curiously, bore the same sur- 
 name as the famous explorer for whom 
 Pike's Peak was named. Chisled out of the 
 solid granite these opposing traits are epi- 
 tomized in this unique epitaph: 
 "Underneath this stone in eternal rest 
 Sleeps the wildest one of the wayward west; 
 He was gambler and sport and cowboy, too. 
 And he led the pace in an outlaw crew; 
 He was sure on the trigger and staid to the end, 
 But he was never known to quit on a friend; 
 In the relations of death all mankind is alike. 
 But in life there was only one George W. Pike." 
 
 Strange, contrasting personalities — in awe 
 of nobody, quite as ready to converse famil- 
 
78 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 iarly with the President as with Owen, but 
 probably preferring Owen because they 
 knew he was a fine horseman. 
 
 Persons and things outside their own 
 world held but slight interest for them. At 
 first I had a hazy idea that I might be the 
 medium through which a glimpse of the out- 
 side world would broaden the narrow limits 
 of their lives. I planned to get books for 
 them and to arrange a reading room, but my 
 dream was soon shattered upon discovering 
 that this broader view possessed no charm. 
 Indeed, when I offered to teach Joe to read 
 he refused my offer without a moment's 
 hesitation, firmly announcing "I ain't goin' 
 to learn to read, 'cause then I'd have to!" 
 "Why, Mrs. Brook," he added, looking with 
 scorn at the book I held in my hand, "I 
 wouldn't be bothered the way you are for 
 nothin', havin' to read all them books in 
 there," nodding his head in the direction of 
 our cherished library. This was certainly a 
 fresh point of view regarding education. 
 About the same time I found that the Sears 
 ai^d Roebuck or Montgomery Ward catalogue 
 
A GOVERNMENT CONTRACT 79 
 
 might be fittingly called the Bible of the 
 plains. Night after night the boys pored 
 over them absorbed in the illustrations, of 
 hats, gloves, boots and saddles, the things 
 most dear to their hearts, for on their rid- 
 ing equipment alone they spent a small 
 fortune. 
 
 Improvident and generous, however great 
 their vices might be, their lives were free 
 from petty meanness; the prairies had 
 seemed to 
 
 "Give them their own deep breadth of view 
 The largeness of the cloudless blue." 
 
 The religion of the cow-puncher? My im- 
 pression was that he had none, for certainly 
 he subscribed to no conventional creed or 
 dogma. Yet what was it that gave him a 
 code of honor which made cheating or a lie 
 an unforgivable offense and a man guilty of 
 either an outcast scorned by his associates, 
 and what was it that would have made him 
 go without bread or shelter that a woman 
 or child might not suffer? 
 
 Rough and gentle, brutal and tender, good 
 and bad, not angel at one time and devil at 
 
80 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 another, but rather saint and sinner at the 
 same time. Little of religious influence 
 came into his life, and as for Bibles — ^there 
 were none. 
 
 I remember the story of a Bishop who 
 was travelling through the West and \fas 
 asked to hold service in one of the larger 
 towns. When he arrived he found that he 
 had left his own Bible on the train, so he 
 sent the hotel clerk out to borrow one. 
 After some time the man returned with a 
 Bible, explaining to the Bishop that it was 
 the only one in town. "I went everywhere 
 and finally got this one. It's the one they 
 use at the Court House to swear on !" 
 
 The cow-puncher, however, could swear 
 without any assistance, for usually "cussln' " 
 formed a very necessary part of his conver- 
 sation. But as I sat at my window sewing 
 one summer morning I heard a violent argu- 
 ment at the corral between Fred and a new 
 "hay-hand" from Kansas. Fred's voice was 
 decisive. 
 
 "That's all right, • but you cut out that 
 eussin' here — the Missus' window's open, 
 
A GOVERNMENT CONTRACT 81 
 
 and she'll hear you." And the heart of 
 "the Missus" wanned to her Knight of the 
 Corral. 
 
 There was another incident, the true sig- 
 nificance of which I did not know until three 
 years after it occurred, when the foreman 
 of the L — ranch met Owen in Denver and 
 inquired for me, adding: 
 
 "Well, I'll never forget Mrs. Brook. Do 
 you remember the day we was shippin' them 
 white faces from the Junction about three 
 years ago, when you and Mrs. Brook hap- 
 pened to come along and stopped to watch 
 us? Well, one of the best men I had was 
 brandin' a calf when it kicked him and he 
 swore at it proper; all of a sudden he looked 
 up and saw Mrs. Brook and another lady 
 standin' on that high platform by the yards 
 watchin' us. He was so plumb beat, he 
 threw down his brandin' iron, took up his 
 hat, walked across the street to a saloon and 
 began drinkin' and stayed drunk for three 
 days, and there I was, short-handed, with a 
 train-load of cows and calves to ship." 
 
 Contrast again — chivalry carried to the 
 
82 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 extent of being drunk for three days because 
 he had sworn before a woman ! 
 
 The horses were all being ridden and 
 trained for the inspection which was soon to 
 take place. Each man had his own "string," 
 those he had broken, and every day they 
 were put through their paces. When in- 
 spected, they had to be walked, trotted and 
 run up and down before the officers, stopped 
 instantly, and the veterinarian was supposed 
 to put his ear to their chests to see if their 
 breathing was regular and their hearts 
 sound. Now, Western horses are not accus- 
 tomed to having their hearts tested, and I 
 noticed that while the riders did everything 
 else tnat was required, they tacitly agreed 
 "to let the vet do his own listnin'." 
 
 The day that the Army officers were to 
 arrive, as Owen was getting ready to drive 
 over to the station to meet them, I remarked 
 casually that I hoped nothing would happen 
 to upset their peace of mind, as it was very 
 important that the honorable representatives 
 of the Government be kept in a good humor. 
 
 The house was still in an unsettled con- 
 
A GOVERNMENT CONTRACT 83 
 
 dition but for the time being it had been 
 brought into sufficient order to insure their 
 comfort. The larder was stocked with the 
 best the markets afforded and the horses 
 were being "gentled" daily. 
 
 When guests came on the train our din- 
 ner might be served at any hour up to ten 
 o'clock at night for after their arrival at 
 the station there was the sixteen mile drive 
 to the ranch — and anything might happen. 
 It was late that particular night when I 
 heard them at the meadow gate. I couldn't 
 understand why they stopped so long. There 
 were sounds of confusion and as they en- 
 tered the house one of the officers held up 
 a finger dripping with blood, the Colonel's 
 hat was awry, his clothes covered with mud, 
 and they all appeared agitated and excited. 
 I could not imagine what had happened. 
 Then they all began to tell me at once. 
 
 Upon reaching the meadow gate the Lieu- 
 tenant who acted as bookkeeper jumped out 
 to open it but failed to return after they had 
 driven through. Upon investigation they 
 found he had caught his finger between the 
 
84 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 wire loop and the post and was held fast. 
 They extricated him from his dilemma and 
 drove on. It was very dark and upon reach- 
 ing the house as the august Colonel des- 
 cended from the wagon, he tripped over a 
 pile of stones lying near the gate, fell down 
 and just escaped breaking his neck. I tried 
 to smile and yet be sympathetic — ^but I had 
 a vision of Owen with "one hundred fifty 
 horses of a dark bay color" on his hands if 
 the good humor of the officers was not re- 
 stored before morning. 
 
 They were shown to their rooms and I 
 prayed nothing would happen to the Vet- 
 erinarian, who had so far remained intact. 
 
 The Colonel and the Lieutenant had come 
 down stairs. We were all in the library 
 waiting for the Doctor before going in to 
 dinner, when we heard a fearful crash. We 
 rushed into the hall to see the poor man sit- 
 ting on the steps holding both hands to his 
 head. He was very tall and, coming down 
 the narrow winding stairs, had struck his 
 head on an overhanging projection which he 
 had failed to observe. His injury was more 
 
A GOVERNMENT CONTRACT 85 
 
 uncomfortable than serious and had quite a 
 cheering effect on his two companions, who 
 began to chaff him about "taking off an inch 
 or two" so by the time dinner was over they 
 were all in high spirits. 
 
 The following morning at nine the inspec- 
 tion began. Each horse was brought out, 
 looked over and measured to see that he 
 came up to the stipulated number of 
 "hands". If he passed he was immediately 
 ridden. 
 
 Each of the men rode the horses he had 
 broken. First the horse was walked up and 
 down between the blacksmith-shop and the 
 corral, then trotted and then run, after 
 which his lungs and breathing were tested 
 and if satisfactory he was accepted. 
 
 Every time a man got on to ride, I was 
 conscious of a feeling of great uncertainty. 
 The horses looked quiet enough and were 
 fairly gentle, but Owen and I knew that the 
 slightest variation in the manner of mount- 
 ing or "touching them up" might cause them 
 to go through a few movements not required 
 by the United States Government. 
 
86 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 As it was, all those we had expected to 
 buck behaved like lambs, while those which 
 had been considered fairly well broken did 
 everything from bucking to snorting and 
 blowing foam all over the Veterinarian when 
 he attempted to examine their teeth and test 
 their lungs. 
 
 For three days the inspection went on, 
 each day more interesting than the last, 
 until all the horses had been examined and 
 out of the number the necessary one hun- 
 dred and fifty accepted and branded U. S. 
 
 As the bunch of horses headed for Denver 
 was being driven off the ranch, Fred looked 
 after them reffectively — 
 
 "If them sodjers can ride, it'U be all 
 right," he remarked, "but if they go to 
 puttin' tenderfeet on them bronchs, they'll 
 land in Kingdom-come before they ever hit 
 the saddle." 
 
VI 
 A VARIETY OF RUNAWAYS 
 
 LIFE in any primitive, sparsely settled 
 country is fraught with adventure. 
 It is the element which gives zest to 
 everyday affairs and which lifts existence 
 above the commonplace, but since every- 
 thing has its price, the price of untram- 
 melled living must often be paid in discom- 
 fort and inconvenience. 
 
 To us, and to many others, abounding 
 health and freedom were ample compensa- 
 tions for a few annoying circumstances but 
 with our guests it was a more serious con- 
 sideration. After a few experiences we be- 
 gan to discourage the visits of those unfitted 
 by nature and temperament for "roughing 
 it". 
 
 We could not control the elements nor 
 untoward events. Fate had such an invari- 
 able custom of upsetting and rearranging all 
 87 
 
88 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 of our most carefully laid plans that when 
 friends, especially "tenderfeet", arrived, we 
 had a premonition that before they departed 
 something would happen. It never failed. 
 
 In the house our guests were exempt from 
 anxiety and discomfort, but no one cared to 
 stay indoors when a dazzling world of blue, 
 green and gold lay just outside, and the un- 
 expected was no regarder of persons. A 
 cloud-burst was just as apt to descend upon 
 the unsuspecting head of a delicate, care- 
 fully nurtured old lady as was an indiscrim- 
 inating rattlesnake to frighten some timid 
 soul into hysterics. 
 
 Everyone who came to the ranch wanted 
 to ride, those knowing least about horses 
 being the most insistent, and not wishing to 
 take any chances, at first we gave them 
 Billy, gentle, trustworthy Billy, who, when 
 running loose, could be caught by a man on 
 foot and ridden into the corral with a hand- 
 kerchief around his neck instead of a bridle. 
 We would start out, the tenderfoot joyously 
 "off for a horseback ride," and the next thing 
 we knew he would be oS the horse doubled 
 
A VARIETY OF RUNAWAYS 89 
 
 up under a fence or lying flat on the prairie, 
 while Billy peacefully nibbled grass. No one 
 could explain it unless the uninitiated had 
 lost a stirrup and had unwittingly given the 
 horse a dig in the ribs which was imme- 
 diately resented — so even Billy was disquali- 
 fied. 
 
 The truth was, none of our horses was 
 sufficiently well broken for the inexperienced 
 horseman to ride or drive. They behaved 
 very decently until something occurred, 
 which was out of the ordinary, and then the 
 reaction was most sudden and disastrous. 
 
 With the stock on the ranch we had ac- 
 quired about four hundred horses, most of 
 which had never been handled and were run- 
 ning loose on the range. Before they were 
 of any use or value they had to be broken 
 and Owen felt that it was one of the most 
 important things to be done. Consequently, 
 many of the horses were broken to drive in 
 the hay field, the broncho hitched up with a 
 gentle horse, and put onto the rake or mow- 
 ing machine — ^many were the runaways. 
 
 Charley was leisurely by nature. He never 
 
90 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 hurried either in speech or movement. Owen 
 and I were in the office one morning when he 
 strolled around the house and up to the door. 
 
 "Mis-ter Brook," he drawled, "Ja-ne and 
 Maud are running away with the mow-ing 
 machine down in the timber — they throw-ed 
 Windy off the seat," but before he got the 
 last word out, his listener was down the 
 steps, over the fence and on his way toward 
 the creek where Maud and Jane were tearing 
 through the timber leaving parts of the 
 mowing machine on stumps and fallen logs, 
 while Charley looked after him in mild sur- 
 prise. The horses were brought to an abrupt 
 stop when one tried to go on one side of a 
 tree and the other on the opposite side. 
 
 There was a beautiful black horse, 
 "Toledo", that refused to allow anyone to 
 come near him but Owen or Bill, and there 
 was also a new man on the ranch who so 
 constantly boasted of his ability to handle 
 bronchos the boys had dubbed him "Windy", 
 
 Windy concluded one day that he would 
 harness Toledo alone. There were violent 
 sounds in the stable, snorts, shouts, thumps, 
 
A VARIETY OF RUNAWAYS 91 
 
 and Windy sailed through the open door and 
 landed on a conveniently placed pile of 
 manure, frightened to death but unhurt. 
 
 Bill was furious. 
 
 "What'd you do to him, anyhow?" he 
 stormed after roping Toledo who had broken 
 his halter and was running loose in the 
 corral. 
 
 "I didn't do nothin' to him," protested 
 Windy. "I just crope up and retched over 
 and tetched him and he begun to snort and 
 cave 'round." 
 
 "Course you didn't do nothin', you couldn't 
 do nothin' if you tried. You'd better go back 
 to town where you belong, 'stead a stayin' 
 out here spoilin' good horses." Bill's choler 
 was rising. "You don't know nothin' neither, 
 you're jest a bone head, your spine's jesf 
 growed up and haired over." And, leading 
 the subdued Toledo, Bill disappeared into the 
 stable. 
 
 When the team that Owen reserved for his 
 own use had passed the kicking and lunging 
 stage and I had become sufficiently confident 
 to look at the landscape instead of watching 
 
92 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 their ears, he usually concluded they were 
 "pretty well broken" and that he must try 
 out a new one. This trying out process went 
 on indefinitely, for Owen's New England con- 
 science gave him no peace apparently while 
 an unbroken horse remained in his posses- 
 sion. It was a form of duty. 
 
 When we had guests we used, what my 
 husband was pleased to call, a gentle team, 
 one that started off decorously with all their 
 feet on the ground instead of in the air, but 
 one day when we were expecting some 
 friends from Wyoming he could not resist 
 driving a new pair of beautiful bay horses 
 when we went to meet them. I remained 
 behind. 
 
 The dinner hour passed and no Owen; ad- 
 ditional hours went by and late at night he 
 came in dusty, dirty and scratched. 
 
 In response to a perfect volley of questions 
 he explained that he was all right, but the 
 Lawtons had telegraphed they had been de- 
 tained, and then he added, as quite an unim- 
 portant detail, that "the horses had run 
 away". He had the expression of a fond and 
 
A VARIETY OF RUNAWAYS 93 
 
 indulgent parent, and as he did not rise to 
 the defense of his pet team when I called 
 them "miserable brutes" I knew his pride, at 
 least, had suffered. 
 
 "You see," he resumed, "your new sewing 
 machine and some other freight was at the 
 station, so when I found the Lawtons were 
 not coming I thought I'd bring it over. I 
 had the crystal clock, too." Owen looked so 
 sheepish I had to laugh, although the clock 
 had been a wedding present which we had 
 sent up to the jeweler to be regulated. 
 
 "Is it smashed?" 
 
 "Oh, no," he reassured me, "but I don't 
 know how well it will run. I got out to close 
 the gate beyond the railroad when a con- 
 founded freight engine whistled and the 
 horses started. I was holding the reins in 
 my hand, of course, and tried to climb in the 
 back of the wagon, but couldn't make it on 
 account of the load. I ran along the side 
 until the horses went so fast I fell down and 
 when they began to drag me I let go of the 
 reins. They ran all over that inclosure, the 
 wagon upset and canned tomatoes, sewing 
 
94 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 machine and crystal clock were strewn 
 everywhere. I caught the horses finally, but 
 the wagon was smashed so I had to walk 
 back to Becker's, get his wagon and pick up 
 all the freight — that's what delayed me. I'm 
 dreadfully sorry about the sewing machine 
 and the clock, but ± don't believe they are 
 much hurt." 
 
 He was very contrite, was my husband, 
 but it didn't last long, that sense of duty was 
 too insistent. A very short time after, he 
 was alone, driving another team, with a 
 horse he had just bought, tied to the tug. 
 The new horse, frightened at a dead animal 
 in the lane, jumped, broke the tug, plunged 
 forward, pulled the neck yoke off, the buggy 
 tongue stuck into the ground as the horses 
 ran, the buggy heaved up in the air and 
 pitched Owen out. Ht landed so close to a 
 fence post his head was scratched, but he 
 might have been killed. As long as he had 
 escaped, this runaway had its amusing side, 
 too. He was bringing home a quantity of 
 china nest-eggs which followed when he was 
 thrown out, and he said for a minute it fairly 
 
A VARIETY OF RUNAWAYS 95 
 
 snowed nest-eggs; the ground was white 
 with them. 
 
 Owen and his horses! I never could de- 
 cide whether it was more nerve-racking to 
 go with him or stay behind, so I usually took 
 the chance and went. The experiences we 
 had ! I wonder we ever survived that horse- 
 breaking period, but only once did we face 
 a fate from which there seemed only one 
 chance in a thousand of escaping with oar 
 lives. 
 
 We were driving a buckskin horse Owen 
 had just bought and a newly broken mare, 
 a handsome, high spirited creature called 
 Beauty. She danced and she pranced and 
 forged ahead of the new horse which became 
 nervous and excited in trying to keep up with 
 her. 
 
 We were going up a long hill. Beauty was 
 pulling and tugging on the bit when suddenly 
 she gave a toss to her head and to our horror 
 we saw the bridle fall back around her neck. 
 The bit had broken. Like a flash she was off, 
 the other horse runningwith her. Owen spoke 
 to them. He wound the reins about his arms 
 
96 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 and pulled on them with all his strength. 
 
 At the top of the hill there was a fairly 
 level space where Owen tried to circle them, 
 hoping to tire them out, but he had no con- 
 trol over Beauty and she wheeled about 
 starting back over the road we had come, the 
 buggy bouncing and swaying behind. There 
 was a fence comer with an old post standing 
 about ten feet from it. The horses headed 
 straight for it. I closed my eyes, expecting 
 that we would be wrecked, but they turned 
 and raced across a gulch, the buggy lurched, 
 tipped, struck one side and then the other, 
 but by a miracle did not upset. 
 
 I saw that Owen was trying to head them 
 into a fence and braced myself for the shock, 
 realizing that he hoped to entangle them in 
 the barbed wire and so throw them, but just 
 as we reached it Beauty veered to one side 
 almost overturning the buggy. We were so 
 close the skirt of Owen's fur coat caught on 
 the barbs and was instantly torn to ribbons 
 and we heard the vibrating "ping" of the 
 wire along its entire length as the wheels 
 struck the fence. 
 
A VARIETY OF RUNAWAYS 97 
 
 On and on the maddened horses raced, up 
 hills, down long slopes, through gulches in 
 which it seemed we must be wrecked, until 
 at length we reached the crest of a hill at 
 the bottom of which, angling with the fence, 
 ran a deep gulch with high cut banks. We 
 knew that if the frantic horses reached the 
 edge of that bank at the rate we were going 
 there was no escape for us and we should 
 plunge over the embankment with the 
 horses. To jump was impossible, I was in 
 despair, realizing that Owen, pulling on the 
 horses v/ith all his might, was nearly ex- 
 hausted. 
 
 "Owen, isn't there something I can do?" 
 It was the first time a word had been spoken. 
 
 "Pull on the Buckskin," he answered 
 quickly. 
 
 I leaned forward and seized the rein with 
 both hands as far down as I could reach and 
 threw myself back with all my weight. The 
 Buckskin was pulled back on his haunches. 
 Beauty stopped. Owen handed me the reins, 
 another moment he was at their heads call- 
 ing to me to jump. In that instant before 
 
98 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 jumping I lived an eternity, for if the horses 
 had started again I should have gone to cer- 
 tain death alone. 
 
 I was so weak with fright and sudden re- 
 lief when I felt the firm earth under my feet 
 I could scarcely stand but I had to get to the 
 Buckskin's head and hold on to him, for 
 Owen had his hands full with Beauty, who 
 began to rear and plunge. It was no time 
 for nerves. The horses were finally un- 
 hitched. Owen led Beauty and I, the Buck- 
 skin. Leaving the buggy on the edge of that 
 yawning gulch, we walked the five miles back 
 to the ranch. 
 
VII 
 THE MEASURE OF A MAN 
 
 THE Bohms had gone. The last load 
 of furniture, upon which old Bohm 
 perched like an ill-omened bird, had 
 disappeared through the gate on the top of 
 the hill. At last, after six months of vexa- 
 tion and trouble, Owen and I could live our 
 own life and run the ranch without inter- 
 ference. 
 
 Bohm had tried to wriggle out of every 
 clause in his contract. He had delayed gath- 
 ering and turning over the stock by evers' 
 means and had invented a thousand excuses 
 for staying on from week to week. It had 
 made it very difficult and had exasperated 
 Owen. If he hadn't been wise and patient 
 beyond words, Bohm's bones long before 
 would have mingled with those of his re- 
 puted victims in the old root cellar. I had a 
 different end planned for him each day, but 
 99 
 
100 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 none seemed really fitting. Owen had gone 
 on in his own way, however, insisting upon 
 every part of the contract being fulfilled and 
 reducing Bohm to impotent rage by his quiet 
 firmness. 
 
 Mrs. Bohm had recovered from her "faint- 
 ing spells" and her husband was furious to 
 think he had sold the ranch. In desperation 
 he finally sent to San Francisco for his 
 brother, who was a lawyer, to see if there 
 was any possibility of getting out of the con- 
 tract. The "Judge" was a nice old chap, who 
 looked like an amiable Mormon with a long 
 beard. He soon settled the question. 
 
 "Why, Jim, you wanted to sell out, you 
 signed the contract and you have your 
 money. You'll have to stay with your bar- 
 gain now, whether you like it or not." 
 
 We always remembered him kindly for this 
 and for a story he told. We had been dis- 
 cussing the Chinese as servants and he said : 
 
 "Well, I had one for two years, but I don't 
 want any more. I want to know what I'm 
 eating and with those heathen you are never 
 sure. 
 
THE MEASURE OF A MAN 101 
 
 "It had been raining very hard one day 
 when Wong came to me in the afternoon and 
 said: 
 
 " 'Judge, him laining outside, me gottee 
 no meat for dinner.' 
 
 "I told him that we would do without meat 
 for it was raining too hard for anyone to go 
 out who didn't have to. Wong looked de- 
 jected for he liked meat. He turned to go 
 out of the room, when his eyes fell on the 
 cat. His face brightened with a sudden in- 
 spiration. 
 
 " 'Have meat for dinner! Kill'em cat!' 
 
 "Kill the cat! What on earth do you 
 mean? 
 
 " 'Less, kill'em cat,' he repeated in a mat- 
 ter of fact tone, 'him sick anyhow.' " 
 
 We had asked the Bohms to take their 
 meals with us, but only Mrs. Bohm came to 
 our table. Bohm preferred to eat with the 
 men. We suspected that he was trying to 
 cause trouble. Charley unconsciously con- 
 firmed our suspicions. He was always con- 
 versational and seized the opportimity to talk 
 while fixing my window screen. 
 
102 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 "Say, Mrs. Brook, you'd orter seen Bill this 
 momin'. He was eatin' flapjacks to beat time 
 and was just reachin' for more, when old 
 Bohm, with that mean way of his, began 
 slammin' Mr. Brook. He was sayin' you folks 
 thought you was too good to eat in the kit- 
 chen with us common fellers and had to have 
 a separate dinin' room, when Bill just riz up 
 out of his chair so sudden it went over back- 
 wards, and believe me, his eyes had sparks in 
 'em when he came back at the old man. 
 
 " 'Tain't that the Brooks think that they're 
 too good, but there's some folks too stinkin' 
 common for anybody to eat with' — and out 
 of the door he walked and all the boys fol- 
 lered him, leavin' Bohm alone there facin' all 
 them flapjacks. I reckon he'd a rather faced 
 them flapjacks than Bill, though, — Gee, Bill 
 was some hot," and Charley's blue eyes 
 sparkled at the reminiscence. 
 
 It was exactly as I thought; the boys 
 despised Bohm and were absolutely loyal to 
 Owen. 
 
 After this episode, Owen had a long talk 
 with Bill and a short, heated Interview with 
 
THE MEASURE OF A MAN 103 
 
 Bohm, which resulted in the old man's re- 
 luctant, but hasty, departure. 
 
 I drew a long breath of relief when I saw 
 the last wagon disappear and looked up fully 
 expecting to see the dove of peace pluming 
 herself on our roof-tree. But apparently 
 doves in the cattle country never alight, — 
 they just pass by. 
 
 Owen had bought several thousand acres 
 of land from the railroad. A car of barbed 
 wire for the fence, which was to encircle the 
 entire ranch, was at the station. Our land 
 was now in one solid block with the exception 
 of a few acres of Government land which 
 could only be acquired by homestead entry. 
 This limited acreage in the great checker- 
 board was all that remained of the "free 
 range." 
 
 At this juncture Owen was served with a 
 notice by the United States Marshal forbid- 
 ding him to build the fence. It would enclose 
 Government land. Every mile of the pro- 
 posed fence would have been on ground which 
 he had bought, paid for, and on which he was 
 paying taxes — ^but still — ^he could not fence 
 
104 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 it. "Government land must remain unin- 
 closed." It made no difference, apparently, 
 what happened to the cattleman whose 
 money was tied up in property he could not 
 use. Government land must remain free and 
 open to the public. But, while those few 
 acres of free range remained open to the 
 public, thousands of acres of our unprotected 
 land remained open also. Everyone used it. 
 The ranchmen for miles around, learning 
 that Owen was forbidden to fence, gathered 
 all their cattle and threw them onto our land. 
 
 It was a very serious problem. Our range 
 was being destroyed, the grass was eaten off 
 so closely nothing remained for winter range. 
 Our full-blooded Hereford breeding stock was 
 of little use to us. All our money was in- 
 vested in land and cattle and there was only 
 one thing left to do, — ^put riders on our range 
 to drive the other cattle off. 
 
 Upon this solution of the problem the dove 
 of peace promptly departed and we entered 
 upon a long, hard struggle for the possession 
 and use of what was our own. Owen was 
 faced, not only with financial failure, but ab- 
 
THE MEASURE OF A MAN 105 
 
 solute ruin. The future was far from bright, 
 but when an old school-mate came with her 
 husband to visit us it seemed positively bril- 
 liant by contrast. 
 
 Alice Joice and I had been devoted friends 
 for years. The summer before we had 
 spent in Europe, where I had left her, deep 
 in the study of Art, to which she intended 
 "to devote" her life. 
 
 "It is so commonplace to marry, Esther," 
 these were her parting words ; "any woman 
 can marry — but so few can have a real 
 career." 
 
 Alice's "career" had abruptly ended in 
 "commonplace matrimony," for she had just 
 married a Mr. Van Winkle from Brooklyn, a 
 man I had never met. They were touring 
 the West and were most anxious to include 
 our ranch. I was very eager to see them so 
 I wrote, urging her to come, but asked her 
 to let us know when to expect them, so there 
 would be no mistake about our being at the 
 station. 
 
 I was particularly anxious to have them 
 see ranch life at its best for they were our 
 
106 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 first guests. The house looked very attrac- 
 tive with all our own furniture and wedding 
 presents in place, but I thought the guest 
 room floor might be improved so I painted it 
 Saturday afternoon. Then everything went 
 wrong: the wind-mill pump failed to work, 
 the whole pipe had to be pulled out of the 
 well; we were without running water in the 
 house and couldn't have a fire in the kitchen 
 range, so rations were extremely light. 
 
 Supper, consisting chiefly of sardines, 
 awaited Owen, who was trying to get some 
 of the grease off his hands, when a home- 
 steader by the name of Hamm, his wife, sis- 
 ter and five children drove up. He had come 
 to see Owen on business and they were in- 
 vited in to supper. 
 
 The table was lengthened and reset, more 
 sardines were opened and we were just 
 ready to sit down when my Aunt, who was 
 standing near the window, exclaimed: 
 
 "Who on earth is that!" 
 
 Who, indeed! Alice Joice and her hus- 
 band with a team they had hired at the 
 station. 
 
THE MEASURE OF A MAN 107 
 
 Having a strong heart I did not faint, but 
 left Auntie to help the maid make the neces- 
 sary additions to the table — and sardines, 
 while Owen and I hurried out to greet them. 
 
 "Hello, dearie, here we are," Alice called 
 from the wagon as I approached. "Clarence 
 and I thought it would be such fun to sur- 
 prise you. How-do-you-do, Mr. Brook, I want 
 you to meet my husband, Mr. Van Winkle." 
 Alice jumped off the step and threw herself 
 into my arms. "Oh, Esther, isn't this fun?" 
 Gay, inconsequent Alice, from her city home, 
 never considered for a moment that a sur- 
 prise could be anything but joyous. 
 
 If I had met him in Egypt, I should have 
 known that her husband's name was Van 
 Winkle — Clarence Van Winkle, it couldn't 
 have been anything else. 
 
 He was pale and tall and thin and rigid. 
 The inflexibility of the combined ancestral 
 spines had united in his back bone. He 
 might break, he could never bend. My imag- 
 ination failed when I tried to picture the 
 meeting between the heir to the Van Winkle 
 name and the Hamms. It was far worse 
 
108 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 than anything I could ever have imagined. 
 
 Alice was very sweet; she talked all the 
 time, patted the five little Hamms and won 
 their mother's heart by asking their names 
 and ages, but in acknowledging the intro- 
 duction Clarence only bowed slightly, a move- 
 ment which required great effort, then 
 relapsed into silence immediately, scrutiniz- 
 ing the Hamm family through his glasses as 
 though they were rare animals in a Zoo. 
 Mrs. Hamm and her sister were stupefied 
 and did not speak a word, but Mr. Hamm, a 
 truly sociable person from Oklahoma, con- 
 tinually addressed Clarence as "young fel- 
 ler," which produced the same effect as a 
 violent chill, and when he joyously jogged a 
 Van Winkle elbow to emphasize some pleas- 
 antry, Clarence firmly moved his chair out 
 of reach of the defiling touch. 
 
 Alice ate everything and did not stop talk- 
 ing for a moment. Clarence refused every- 
 thing but a cracker, which he munched in 
 silence. Suddenly he turned white and left 
 the table. Owen escorted him out-of-doors 
 while Alice and I followed. He was faint. 
 
THE MEASURE OF A MAN 109 
 
 just faint, and collapsed weakly onto a gar- 
 den seat. Alice said it was the Denver water, 
 but I suspected unassimilated Hamm. Owen 
 stayed with him and Alice and I returned to 
 finish supper. The Hamms left soon after 
 and Clarence gradually revived under the in- 
 fluence of Owen's New England accent and 
 Scotch whisky. 
 
 All at once I thought of the freshly painted 
 guest-room floor. I explained the situation 
 to Alice and we went up to see if it was dry. 
 It was, but the smell of paint was most evi- 
 dent. Alice gave a few sniffs and said apolo- 
 getically: 
 
 "I'm dreadfully sorry, Esther, but Clar- 
 ence couldn't possibly sleep here. He is so 
 sensitive to odors of any kind." I was re- 
 minded of a faint aroma which had clung to 
 the Hamm garments. "If there is another 
 room we can occupy, I think it would be 
 better." Alice was accustomed to hotels. I 
 offered our room; it was reluctantly but 
 finally accepted, the scion of the Van Winkles 
 must not breathe paint. All the things from 
 the guesi>room were put in our room 
 
110 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 and ours were moved up to the guest-room. 
 
 Just before they retired Alice confided to 
 me that Clarence had had some temperature 
 in Denver and the Doctor thought he might 
 be threatened with typhoid fever. 
 
 "I really believe, Esther, if Clarence has 
 any temperature in the morning we had bet- 
 ter go back to Denver." 
 
 I reassured her as I bade her good-night 
 and then sought Owen. I was beginning to 
 have some temperature myself. 
 
 "Owen, if Clarence Van Winkle has a thou- 
 sandth of a degree of temperature in the 
 morning don't tell him that he'll be all right; 
 let him go back to Denver or anywhere 
 else he pleases. Imagine that man with 
 typhoid, here." 
 
 The next morning Alice appeared at break- 
 fast alone. Clarence had no temperature, 
 but he felt weak and thought he had better 
 stay in bed. He continued to feel weak for 
 three days, Alice dancing attendance while 
 the rest of us tried to get the household and 
 water running again. 
 
 When Clarence finally emerged from his 
 
THE MEASURE OF A MAN 111 
 
 seclusion, he was in high spirits, positively 
 buoyant. 
 
 "Well, now I want to see everything, all 
 the cattle, the cow-boys, branding, dehorn- 
 ing, a round-up and what is it you call it? 
 Oh, yes, 'broncho busting'. We have to go 
 back to Denver tomorrow, you know." He 
 had to stop for want of breath. 
 
 Alice beamed fondly upon her enthusiastic 
 bridegroom. Mine looked far from enthus- 
 iastic. Owen was a perfect host but he could 
 not give a demonstration of a year's work in 
 one day. The horse-breaking was over for 
 the season and the branded and dehorned 
 cattle scattered over miles of country. This 
 he endeavored to explain to Clarence who 
 made no attempt to conceal his disappoint- 
 ment nor his petulance. 
 
 "Oh, how unfortunate. I've heard so much 
 of the fascination of ranch life I thought I'd 
 like to see a little of it. I thought you had 
 broncho busting or something interesting or 
 entertaining going on every day." 
 
 Owen bit his lip. He was busy beyond 
 words but he dropped everything and tbat 
 
112 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 afternoon we took our guests for a drive over 
 the ranch. The wagon was new and rattled 
 and, wishing to spare Clarence's delicate sen- 
 sibilities, Owen put on some washers. 
 
 We were in the middle of the prairie miles 
 from the house, Clarence had recovered his 
 good humor since he was "actually seeing 
 something", as he tactfully expressed it, 
 when one of the wheels began to drag. The 
 washers proved to be too tight, we had a hot 
 spindle. There was nothing to do but sit 
 there in the blazing sun while the two men 
 took oif the wheel, removed a washer or two 
 and greased the spindle. 
 
 I wouldn't have missed it, the mere 
 thought of that scene was a joy to me for 
 months afterwards. Clarence Van Winkle 
 red and perspiring from the effort of lifting 
 a wheel, wiping his greasy hands on a piece 
 of dirty waste ! Alice's face was a study. I 
 had to keep my eyes fixed on the landscape 
 after one look over the side of the wagon. I 
 was afraid I should laugh out loud. 
 
 The day they left Bill drove us all to the 
 station. We just made the train, which was 
 
THE MEASURE OF A MAN 113 
 
 standing on the track as we arrived. Owen 
 hurried to check the Van Winkle's baggage. 
 Bill had to stay with the horses. Alice and I 
 had all the wraps, which left Clarence to 
 carry two dress suit cases across the tracks. 
 His eyes were fixed on the porter and he was 
 hurrying toward the Pullman when he 
 stubbed his toe on one rail, sprawled all the 
 way across the track and hit his neck on the 
 second rail. The suit cases flew in one direc- 
 tion, his hat in another, his glasses fell off 
 and his watch dropped out of his pocket. 
 Alice and I rushed to the rescue, the porter 
 assisted Clarence to his feet and picked up 
 the suit cases, we gathered up the rest of the 
 articles while Clarence stood in the middle 
 of the track rubbing his knees, to the great 
 amusement of the passengers. Alice went 
 up to him when suddenly he screwed his face 
 up as a child does before it begins to cry, 
 threw both arms around her neck and buried 
 his face on her shoulder. The conductor 
 terminated the scene by calling "All aboard". 
 Clarence limped to the train, rubbing his 
 neck, and the last we saw was Alice holding 
 
114 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 all the wraps, the hat, glasses and watch, 
 waving to us from the vestibule and Clar- 
 ence comfortably seated in the Pullman 
 smiling a wan farewell through the window. 
 As the train with its precious freight was 
 lost to sight around a curve, Owen and I 
 began to laugh. We laughed until we were 
 so weak we could scarcely get into the 
 wagon. Bill's face was perfectly serious, 
 but his eyes had a little twinkle in them as 
 he said with his slow drawl : 
 
 "Lord, Mrs. Brook, I'm glad that young 
 man married that girl. He'd orter have 
 somebody look after him. A poor little gos- 
 lin' feller like that ain't got no business goin' 
 round alone." 
 
 Bill always sized up a situation in the 
 fewest possible words. 
 
 During the drive back to the ranch I 
 thought of Alice and her future by the side 
 of a man of that type. Our future was un- 
 certain enough, but if trouble and vicissitudes 
 were our portion, at least I had someone with 
 whom to share them. 
 
 Tex had been away for several weeks and 
 
THE MEASURE OF A MAN 115 
 
 we were surprised to see him at the gate as 
 we drove up. He looked very serious as he 
 asked Owen if he might speak with him and 
 Owen looked more serious when he came out 
 of the office after their conversation. 
 
 "What is it, Owen? Something is wrong. 
 Please tell me." 
 
 Owen took me by the arm and we walked 
 up and down under the trees. 
 
 "Tex came over to tell me, Esther, that I 
 am to be arrested for 'driving cattle off the 
 range.' Technically, it's a serious charge, 
 carrying a heavy fine and — " he paused — 
 "imprisonment, but don't worry, my dear," 
 as he felt me start a little at his last words, 
 "it's listed on the statute books as a criminal 
 offence, connected with rustling, but that 
 can't hold in this case. It's a 'frame-up' to 
 give me trouble, that's all. It might have 
 been serious but Tex heard of it and came 
 to warn me just in time. There's been a plot 
 to eat me out and now they want to drive me 
 out. I'm going in to Denver to see my law- 
 yer tomorrow. I'm more troubled on your 
 account than anything else." 
 
116 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 "Don't worry about me, Owen, we're going 
 to stay in this country and fight it out to the 
 end. I'll face anything, as long as you don't 
 cry," and we went into the house laughing, 
 as we thought of Clarence Van Winkle. 
 
 The miserable experience which followed 
 was sufficiently serious, even after the 
 charge had been changed to one of minor 
 character. 
 
 Owen was arrested on our anniversary. I 
 went his bond. There was a long, expensive 
 law-suit which we lost, the Judge contending 
 that if a man wished to protect his land he 
 should fence it. It was explained that the 
 Government had forbidden it, but the Judge 
 said that did not affect the verdict in this 
 case. Owen paid the damages awarded by 
 the Court, we gathered together our sixteen 
 cow-puncher witnesses who had been staying 
 with us at one of the largest hotels in Den- 
 ver, an event for the cow-punchers, and re- 
 turned to the ranch. 
 
 Did Owen weep on my shoulder? He set 
 bis lips a little more firmly and his face had 
 
THE MEASURE OF A MAN 117 
 
 an added sternness as he looked across those 
 miles of rolling prairie he owned but which 
 now were utterly useless. 
 
 He broke the silence at last. His voice had 
 a different tone. 
 
 "I am going to have the use of my own 
 land. They shan't keep me out of it any 
 longer. I am going to sell off all the cattle 
 and put in sheep. Then we'll see! With 
 herders we don't need fences and cattle won't 
 graze where sheep have ranged." 
 
 Thus with the first year of our marriage, 
 the first chapter of our ranch experience 
 ended and a totally different life began. 
 
VIII 
 
 THE SHEEP BUSINESS 
 
 WITH the coming of the sheep every- 
 thing was changed. It was hke 
 living in a different age, almost as 
 though we had slipped back hundreds of 
 years into Biblical times and had come into 
 intimate association with Jacob and Joseph. 
 With the advent of the wool or lamb buyers 
 there was a sudden transition to the more 
 commercial atmosphere of the twentieth cen- 
 tury, but it was so fleeting our pastoral 
 existence was scarcely interrupted. 
 
 A few of our old men had gone, Tex among 
 them. He left with regret, but as he said — 
 "Lord knows I hate to go, Mr. Brook, but 
 cattle's all I know and an old cow man ain't 
 got no business around sheep; they just 
 naturally despise each other." And he went 
 up into Montana where the cattle business 
 still flourished. 
 
 118 
 
THE SHEEP BUSINESS 11& 
 
 Most of the other men stayed on, however, 
 to ride the fence lines, look after the horses 
 and do the various things about the ranch, 
 but the days of branding, dehorning and 
 round-ups were past and the cow-puncher 
 was replaced by "camp tenders". 
 
 The sheep were trailed all the way from 
 New Mexico. Steve, who spoke Spanish, was 
 foreman, and with three of the other men on 
 horseback had come up the trail with the 
 sheep and the soft-voiced Mexican herders. 
 
 Their entire camp equipment was skillfully 
 packed on diminutive burros. It was some- 
 what startling to see what appeared to be 
 animated wood-piles, water-casks, rolls of 
 bedding or dish-pans bobbing about over the 
 woolly backs of the sheep, until a parting in 
 the band revealed the legs and lowered head 
 of a sleepy-eyed burro. 
 
 The herders spoke no English and it was 
 so charming to receive a gleaming smile and 
 low bow while being addressed as "Padron" 
 and "Senora" that we plunged into the study 
 of their musical language forthwith. 
 
 Each herder was in charge of a band of 
 
120 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 from fifteen hundred to twenty-five hundred 
 sheep. Two herders occupied a camp, but 
 the sheep were placed in separate corrals 
 and, in order to give the various bands 
 ample pasturage, the camps were placed 
 miles apart. 
 
 Early in the morning the sheep were 
 driven out, the herders taking their bands in 
 opposite directions. All day long the flock 
 quietly grazed over the prairie, the Mexican 
 with his dog at his feet standing like a sen- 
 tinel on a hill from which he could overlook 
 his entire band and ward off any prowling 
 coyote whose approach was heralded by a 
 sudden scurry among the sheep. 
 
 Eternal vigilance, faithfulness and good 
 judgment were the essential qualities in a 
 herder, judgment in the handling of the 
 sheep, in the selection of the best grass and 
 water, the time for taking them out and 
 bringing them back to the camp. The herd- 
 ers were not supposed to meet and talk 
 together for while they were engrossed in 
 conversation or out of sight of the sheep the 
 two bands might become mixed, a very 
 
THE SHEEP BUSINESS 121 
 
 serious thing when the ewes were accom- 
 panied by their lambs, for when the bands 
 were separated again the lamb might be in 
 one band and its mother in the other. 
 
 It was a lonely life, but one for which 
 Mexicans are especially suited. They lack 
 the initiative of the Anglo-Saxons, they are 
 naturally tranquil, slow of speech and action 
 and content to do nothing — gentle children 
 from the land of Mariana. 
 
 Scattered over the prairie, the sheep from 
 a distance looked like mere dots so closely 
 resembling the clumps of weeds, it was 
 necessary to locate the herder before they 
 could be identified. He looked like a solitary 
 fence post placed on the top of a hill. 
 
 The Mexicans were most gracious and re- 
 sponsive, so delighted to receive a visit from 
 the Padron that it was a joy to talk with 
 them. We were never certain just what we 
 had said, to be sure, but the effect of our 
 halting, broken sentences of Spanish ap- 
 peared so pleasing, we were convinced that 
 if we could only converse fluently our words 
 would become immortal. 
 
122 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 Urbanity was most contagious. Owen and 
 I made deep bows to the herders, we almost 
 bowed to the sheep in an over-mastering de- 
 sire to equal the politeness of Ramon, Fidel, 
 Francisco or Tranquilino. What names! 
 The atmosphere of the ranch became so 
 poetic and romantic I should not have been 
 surprised to see Owen adopt long hair and a 
 flowing tie. After a day spent in visiting the 
 sheep camps I returned in an ecstatic mood. 
 I almost fancied myself the reincarnated 
 spirit of Bo-Peep or Ramona but alas, my 
 true identity was always disclosed as soon as 
 I reached the house — I was only "the 
 Missus". 
 
 Nevertheless the sheep business was fas- 
 cinating, and best of all successful. The 
 question of the range was settled. We had 
 the use of our own land and our rights were 
 respected. The customary feud between the 
 sheepman and the cattle owners was avoided, 
 since our sheep were always kept within the 
 limits of the land which we owned. From 
 being the object of hatred and vilification, 
 Owen became a personage; his opinion 
 
TRAILED ALL THE WAY FROM NEW MEXICO 
 
 i^*^>^^^^ 
 
 ,4'/ 
 
 LIKE A SOLITARY FENCE POST 
 
THE SHEEP BUSINESS 123 
 
 quoted, his method of handling sheep emu- 
 lated. 
 
 There were a few sheep men in the coun- 
 try who had made an indifferent success. 
 They had scoffed at Owen's practice of selling 
 off all the lambs in the autumn and main- 
 taining the number of his sheep by additional 
 purchases but, when they found how small 
 his losses were, they promptly adopted his 
 plan and even some of the old-time cattle 
 men put in sheep. 
 
 The loss of the law suit had certainly 
 proved to be the turning point in the history 
 of the Brook family. Our popularity increased 
 so rapidly it was amusing. Bill expressed 
 what I felt as I met him riding through the 
 meadow. 
 
 "Have you been riding the fence lines. 
 Bill?" 
 
 "Yes'm, but it's just takin' exercise for 
 my health. There ain't nothin' wrong any 
 more. Since you folks got the world by the 
 tail and a down-hill pull, everybody's huntin' 
 around seein' what they can do to make it 
 pleasant for you. I notice the Three Circle 
 
124 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 outfit don't go round no more leavin' all the 
 gates open and when we get a fence line 
 staked out, the stakes ain't all pulled up by 
 momin'." 
 
 "It is peaceful, isn't it?" 
 
 "Peaceful," echoed Bill, with feeling, "I'm 
 so chuck full of peace I can't hardly hold any 
 more. I'll bet if a feller was to hit me, I'd 
 only 'baa-a'." 
 
 There was a vast amount of "Baa-ing" 
 going on at the ranch, where Mary and I 
 were raising a few score orphan lambs on 
 the bottle. There was a voracious chorus 
 whenever we appeared. They jumped all 
 over us and as soon as they got hold of the 
 nipple of the bottle they flopped down on 
 their knees and did not release it until they 
 had gulped down the last drop of milk, after 
 which they stood up, their little sides stick- 
 ing out as though they had been stuffed. As 
 much care had to be exercised with the bot- 
 tles, the temperature and quantity of the 
 milk as though we had been feeding so many 
 babies. 
 
 There was no milk at the outside camps 
 
THE SHEEP BUSINESS 125 
 
 and no one to care for the poor abandoned 
 lambs whose frivolous young mothers re- 
 fused to own them, leaving them to starve. 
 Occasionally an old ewe of truly maternal 
 instinct could be fooled into adopting one of 
 these little "dogies" or "bums". The skin of 
 her dead lamb was taken off and slipped 
 over the orphan, which was joyfully accepted 
 because of its smell ! 
 
 When the lambs made their appearance in 
 May, the bands were separated, we had ad- 
 ditional herders and they had to be more 
 watchful for "Spring lamb" is also very 
 tempting to coyotes. It was easy for a 
 herder to lose ten or twenty lambs, for the 
 little things congregate behind rocks or 
 clumps of weeds and go to sleep, are over- 
 looked when the sheep are driven back to the 
 camp in the evening, and become the victims 
 of those prairie wolves which continually 
 lurk about. 
 
 Sometimes when we were driving, a tiny 
 white speck would come racing after the 
 wagon, a lamb, which had been left behind. 
 Lambs are such senseless little things, when 
 
126 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 they are frightened they will adopt any mov- 
 ing object in lieu of a mother. 
 
 We pulled them out of prairie-dog holes 
 into which they had thrust their heads and 
 become fastened by having the loose earth 
 fall in about their necks — they were trouble- 
 some but so appealing and amusing, they 
 were a never-ending source of entertainment 
 from the first moment they appeared, a tiny 
 body supported on long, wabbly legs. 
 
 As they grew stronger "playful as a lamb" 
 acquired a new meaning. They capered and 
 they bucked, they raced around the corral in 
 the evening when the ewes were contentedly 
 lying down, they frisked about on the backs 
 of their patient mothers, they jumped stiff- 
 legged, and in a wild excess of joy bounded 
 into the air giving a cork-screw twist to their 
 hindquarters, which produced a most ludi- 
 crous effect. 
 
 Old quotations from the Bible came to 
 have added significance; as the shearer held 
 a poor frightened sheep between his knees 
 and rapidly clipped off the fleece with his 
 gleaming shears, there was not a sound if a 
 
THE SHEEP BUSINESS 127 
 
 clumsy movement cut a deep gash in the 
 tender flesh; the "sheep before her shearer 
 was dumb" indeed. 
 
 I spent days in the shearing sheds watch- 
 ing the proceedings from a pile of wool sacks 
 or passing out small metal disks in exchange 
 for the fleeces the shearers turned in. At 
 the end of the day the disks were counted 
 and each shearer credited with the number 
 of sheep he had shorn. 
 
 The fleeces were rolled and tied separately, 
 then thrown up to a man on a platform, who 
 packed them in a long sack which was sus- 
 pended from the top of a high frame. As it 
 was filled, it was taken down, sewed up and 
 rolled into the end of the shed to remain 
 until later in the season when the wool was 
 sold and hauled to the railroad. 
 
 Life was certainly peaceful compared to 
 what it had been, but there was little danger 
 of our becoming "on weed", as a certain re- 
 tired cattle-man expressed it after a short 
 sojourn in Europe. 
 
 Lambing, shearing and dipping followed in 
 rapid succession. The herders cooked for 
 
128 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 themselves and once a week the wagons were 
 piled with supplies and provisions which were 
 left at each camp. In a huge store-room 
 were kept quantities of salt-pork, sugar, 
 dried fruits, coffee, flour and other groceries. 
 Flour was bought by the ton and everjrthing 
 else in proportion. Making out the orders, 
 having all the freight hauled the sixteen 
 miles from the railroad, checking it out and 
 keeping the camps supplied, were only details 
 but it was the multitude of detail which filled 
 the days and kept us from becoming "on 
 weed". We issued the supplies to the camp- 
 tenders ourselves, after one of them had 
 filled all of the Mexicans' cans with gasoline 
 instead of coal-oil, because "it kind'a had the 
 same smell." 
 
 Unless we chanced to have guests, for 
 weeks at a time the only women I saw were 
 those in our employ, but I resented having 
 any of my friends think of my life as "dull" 
 or 'lonely". On the contrary it was fasci- 
 nating, full of incident, rich in experience 
 which money could not buy. Living so close 
 Jo the great heart of nature during those 
 
THE SHEEP BUSINESS 129 
 
 years on the plains, the vision of life partook 
 of their breadth and a new sense of values 
 replaced old, artificial standards. To be 
 alone on the vast prairie was to gain a new 
 conception of infinity and — eternity. 
 
 The Mexicans stayed on the ranch about 
 nine months, then returned to their homes 
 for a short visit. They were the most invari- 
 able creatures I ever knew. When they de- 
 parted for Taos or Trinidad or Antonito, 
 perhaps in July, they would announce on 
 what date and by what train they would 
 return in October. That was the end of it, 
 and upon the appointed day in October some- 
 one would meet the designated train from 
 which the smiling herder alighted. They 
 never failed and they never left until an- 
 other herder was there to take care of the 
 sheep. 
 
 One summer during this vacation period, 
 eight new herders came to replace eight that 
 were going home. They were a fierce looking 
 lot from a different section of the country. 
 They had been on the ranch only a short 
 
130 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 time when Steve began to have trouble with 
 them. They were late getting their sheep 
 out in the morning, they drove them too 
 rapidly and brought them in too early in the 
 evening. In a few weeks the sheep began to 
 lose flesh and show the effects of bad hand- 
 ling. 
 
 The newcomers disobeyed all orders, unless 
 Steve happened to be on the spot. He had to 
 watch them constantly. He came up to a 
 camp unexpectedly one noon and found two 
 of these Mexicans ready to sit down to a 
 dinner they had just cooked. It was an in- 
 variable rule that the herders should take a 
 lunch with them, for their mid-day meal, and 
 not return to the camp. They had left their 
 sheep alone, so Steve made them leave their 
 dinner and go back to their bands, while he 
 stayed to make sure they did not return. 
 
 It was impossible to discharge them until 
 new herders could be brought from New 
 Mexico and he and Owen talked over the 
 situation at length that night. 
 
 Early in the morning Steve went out on 
 another trip of inspection. About two 
 
THE SHEEP BUSINESS 131 
 
 o'clock he rode into the yard, his face cov- 
 ered with blood from a deep gash in his 
 head. He fell from his horse into Owen's 
 arms. We brought him in, washed off the 
 blood, gave him a stimulant and waited 
 until he was able to tell us what had 
 happened. 
 
 It developed that as he came in sight of 
 the camp he saw four of the Mexicans out- 
 side of the cabin. They stood motionless as 
 he approached, then began to hurl rocks at 
 him. One hit his horse and he was nearly 
 thrown but managed to keep his seat. He 
 was struck several times on the body. Al- 
 though realizing that the Mexicans intended 
 to kill him, he jumped off his horse and went 
 toward them, A rock struck his head, but 
 with undaunted courage he picked up some 
 of the rocks and threw them back at the 
 herders. They had not expected that turn 
 to the affair and ran into the cabin. Steve 
 was unarmed and too badly hurt, single 
 handed, to deal with the Mexicans, so he got 
 on his horse, with difficulty, and came back 
 to the ranch. 
 
132 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 The next thing I knew, Owen, Bill and 
 Fred, each carrying a gun, got into the wagon 
 and drove off. 
 
 When anything happened it came with 
 such suddenness there was never opportunity 
 for questions, besides, my association with 
 men had taught me the value of silence — in 
 an emergency. 
 
 In a few hours Owen and Fred came back. 
 They had met the eight new herders walking 
 into the ranch to "quit". They walked back 
 to their respective camps instead, their pace 
 accelerated by a loaded gun pointing at their 
 backs. The cabins were searched, several 
 villainous looking knives confiscated and 
 eight subdued cut-throats returned to the 
 peaceful occupation of herding sheep, under 
 Bill's watchful eye and loaded gun. 
 
 Owen said that it wasn't at all necessary 
 for the Mexicans to understand English since 
 Bill's few remarks were sufficiently lurid to 
 attract their attention. 
 
 Until other herders could be brought to 
 the ranch, one white man, always armed, 
 stayed at each camp, constantly on guard lest 
 
THE SHEEP BUSINESS 133 
 
 the vindictive herders set fire to the camps 
 or kill the sheep. These were no gentle chil- 
 dren from the land of Mariana ; we discovered 
 they were desperate characters from Old 
 Mexico, to whom murder was second nature. 
 
 Bill's opinion of the sheep business after 
 his brief experience in the camps could only 
 be published in an expurgated edition. He 
 hated the Mexicans, he hated the sheep, he 
 hated everything connected with them. After 
 seeing his charges safely on board a south- 
 bound train, he returned to the ranch with 
 all the joy of an exile. 
 
 "I've been up against tough men, Mrs. 
 Brook, but that bunch is the worst I ever 
 seen. They're just like a pack of coyotes, 
 grinnin' and sneakin' up behind you, waitin' 
 'tU they git a chance to finish you. Between 
 listnin' to the grass grow and pickin' off 
 sheep ticks, I got plumb locoed settin' there 
 watchin' 'em. I jest had to feel my skin 
 every once in a while to be sure I wasn't 
 growin' wool." 
 
IX 
 
 THE UNEXPECTED 
 
 IF there is anything in suggestion, Carlyle 
 was responsible for the whole affair, 
 otherwise why should we have de- 
 ferred our drive until the late afternoon and 
 selected Sartor Resartus of all books to read 
 aloud after lunch? 
 
 Owen wanted to visit one of the sheep 
 camps to examine the corrals before having 
 the hay stacked there for winter use and he 
 urged us to go with him. His invitation was 
 joyfully accepted. For many weeks we had 
 scarcely left the ranch as Owen's Mother, 
 who was with us, had been desperately ill. 
 The crisis had passed, however, so we did not 
 hesitate to go off for a few hours, leaving 
 Madame Brook with her nurse. My aunt, 
 Owen's sister and her two children were at 
 the ranch also, and after so many weeks of 
 anxiety we all felt the relaxation and joy- 
 134 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 135 
 
 ously climbed into the wagon when Owen 
 drove up. 
 
 There were summer and winter camps for 
 the sheep and our objective point was an old 
 place, acquired with the ranch, which had 
 been converted into a winter camp. During 
 the summer it was unoccupied. 
 
 We drove along laughing and talking. 
 Owen's nephew carried his gun and kept a 
 sharp lookout for coyotes. It was a glorious 
 day and we were in the mood to appreciate 
 all its beauty. 
 
 The meadows, waist deep in native hay, 
 were flecked with the gold of the prairie sun 
 flowers. The wild roses grew in tangled 
 masses everywhere, their perfume mingled 
 with the odor of the sage which yielded 
 up its aromatic sweetness as the wheels 
 crushed the silvery leaves. The plains were 
 mottled with the shade of fleecy clouds 
 which floated lazily across the sky, the 
 changing lights flooded the hills with daz- 
 zling sunshine, then veiled them softly with 
 faint cloud shadows. A delicate haze hung 
 over the more distant hills, and behind 
 
136 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 the mountains thunderheads were gathering. 
 
 The road ran directly past the camp and 
 long before we reached it we could see the 
 old house, forbidding in its isolation, stand- 
 ing on a high mesa above the creek. It had 
 been built years before by a settler named 
 La Monte, whose footsteps misfortune had 
 dogged until she overtook him at last. His 
 wife deserted him and, broken in heart and 
 fortune, he had left the country. Bohm held 
 a mortgage on the place and it had passed 
 into his possession. 
 
 An air of abandonment surrounded the 
 camp even in winter when it was occupied, 
 but during the summer when it was totally 
 deserted the ghosts of dead happiness stalked 
 unheeded through the silent rooms. Rank 
 weeds filled the yards, the plaintive notes of 
 the wood-doves in the cotton-woods by the 
 creek and the weird, haunting howl of the 
 coyotes were the only sounds to break the 
 silence. 
 
 There was a tale connecting old Bohm with 
 the La Monte tragedy for which an affair 
 V^ith Mrs. La Monte was responsible. W9 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 137 
 
 were some distance from the house, the rest 
 of the party were intent on watching a big 
 jack-rabbit which was bounding lightly- 
 across the prairie, but I was thinking of the 
 wretched story which the sight of the old 
 house always recalled, when the door was 
 slowly opened and a naked man paused for 
 a moment on the threshhold then walked 
 down the steps into the yard. 
 
 I gave a gasp, my eyes fixed on that ad- 
 vancing figure, the others looked around but 
 in that instant the man had seen us and 
 dropped down into the tall weeds, by which 
 he was completely hidden. 
 
 "What's the matter?" Owen asked, sur- 
 prised by my exclamation. 
 
 "Why, Owen, a man without any clothes 
 on just came out of that door and is there 
 in the weeds." 
 
 Owen turned toward the yard, there was 
 no one in sight; he looked at me in amaze- 
 ment. He knew I must be in earnest! I was 
 not given to "seeing things". 
 
 "Why, that's absurd, how could you im- 
 agine anyone being out here in this deserted 
 
138 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 place miles and miles from the railroad?" 
 
 We were just opposite the house and as if 
 in response to Owen's question the head and 
 naked breast of a man rose up from behind 
 the weeds. His face was crimson and the 
 thick, black disheveled hair gave him such 
 an aspect of wildness we were appalled. 
 
 Owen stopped the horses, the man rose to 
 his feet, calmly looked at us, then turned and 
 walked slowly into the house. 
 
 We were speechless. It was like a sudden 
 apparition. 
 
 After a moment Owen passed the lines 
 tome. 
 
 "Here, Esther, hold the horses while I go 
 in and investigate." 
 
 "Be careful," was all I could say. There 
 was a chorus of "Don'ts" from the back seat 
 as he got out of the wagon. 
 
 I thought of the gun. "Gordon, take your 
 gun and go after your uncle. I know that 
 man is crazy." 
 
 Gordon jumped out and ran toward the 
 house, but before he reached the door we 
 heard a loud burst of singing, a curious ren- 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 139 
 
 dering of "Ta-rah-rah boom-de-ahy". In a 
 moment Owen and Gordon reappeared. 
 
 "Well, there's no doubt of his being crazy," 
 Owen said, "we'll go to the Bosman ranch 
 where I can get someone to come back with 
 me. I can telephone the Sheriff from there, 
 too." Then he told us what had happened. 
 
 By the time he reached the door the man 
 had put on his outside shirt and was stand- 
 ing in the middle of the bedroom floor. He 
 glared at Owen when he entered and made 
 no reply when asked what he was doing 
 there, then he turned around and walked 
 over to an empty bed frame which stood 
 against the wall, got behind it and gradually 
 slipped down underneath. When he was 
 lying flat on his back on the floor, his feet 
 toward Owen, he began to sing in some 
 broken foreign tongue. 
 
 It was uncanny and as we drove on toward 
 the creek I could only say "What next?" 
 
 "I don't know what on earth can coma 
 next," Owen replied. "This is positively the 
 most unexpected and unlikely thing that 
 ever happened." 
 
140 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 We had to drive down a hill before we 
 crossed the creek and at last lost sight of the 
 house, the sound of the wild singing grew 
 more faint and finally died away. 
 
 There were no bridges in the country and 
 while at this time there was no flowing 
 water, the sand was wet. We drove down a 
 steep bank into the bed of the creek and were 
 almost across when without the slightest 
 warning the bottom seemed to drop out of 
 the earth beneath us and the wagon sank 
 down. 
 
 "Quicksand!" 
 
 There was just time for that one excla- 
 mation in concert. Owen gave the horses a 
 quick cut with the whip, they sprang for- 
 ward, caught a footing on the solid sand and 
 were safe. He gave them another cut, but 
 pull as they would they could not move the 
 wagon, which had sunk to the hubs. The 
 double tree broke and the horses were free. 
 Owen and Gordon jumped out on the tongue, 
 holding onto the horses and drove them up 
 the bank. There the rest of us sat, feeling 
 the wagon sinking slowly farther and 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 141 
 
 farther into the deadly, yielding substance. 
 
 The end of the wagon-pole rested on the 
 firm sand, so by climbing over the dashboard 
 holding on to it with one hand I was able to 
 work my own way down the wagon tongue 
 until I could grasp an outstretched hand and 
 jump to safety. The others followed my ex- 
 ample. The danger was past, but we trem- 
 bled as we looked back. 
 
 It is impossible to distinguish quicksand 
 from ordinary sand by its appearance, but it 
 will not support the slightest weight. It 
 seems to melt into nothing and the sensation 
 is all the more terrifying from its sudden- 
 ness. The first effect is instantaneous, then 
 the engulf ment becomes more gradual. 
 
 We were safe but afoot. Owen took the 
 horses. 
 
 "Gordon and I will go on to the Bosmans 
 and get another wagon. We won't be long 
 and you women had better stay here and not 
 walk these three miles." 
 
 I was just about to say "all right" when I 
 happened to glance behind me and there on 
 the bank, silhouetted quite sharply against 
 
142 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 the sky, stood the figure of a half -clad man. 
 
 He was watchmg every move we made. I 
 pointed to him. 
 
 "I think you'd better come with us," said 
 Owen after one glance, "he might decide to 
 investigate," and oif we all trudged down the 
 dusty road. 
 
 Blue black masses of cloud were spreading 
 gradually across the sky and distant thunder 
 muttered ominously. 
 
 If a bomb had alighted in the centre of the 
 Bosman ranch, where supper was in prog- 
 ress, it couldn't have produced a more start- 
 ling effect than our arrival on foot and the 
 account of our experience. They urged us 
 to spend the night, as the storm was rapidly 
 approaching, but we felt we must go back 
 with Owen. 
 
 Mr. Bosman hitched our team to one of his 
 wagons, while Owen telephoned to the 
 Sheriff. We took a few pieces of bread and 
 meat for the poor demented creature at the 
 camp and made another start. Mr. Bosman 
 and his son accompanied us on horseback. 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 143 
 
 We went by a different road to avoid crossing 
 the creek. 
 
 It was dark by the time we reached the La 
 Monte place, everything was still. The four 
 men, with a lighted lantern, entered the 
 house. A wild outburst of singing followed, 
 which told us the same scene was being 
 enacted. The men came out almost imme- 
 diately, talking earnestly. 
 
 Mr. Bosman, an old-timer, had recognized 
 the man as Jean La Monte, he had spoken to 
 him, had called him by name, but no sign of 
 understanding, not one faint glimmer of 
 intelligence had shone from out those wild 
 eyes. Mr. Bosman was almost overcome. 
 
 "It's just terrible to see him that way, he 
 was such a good man. Poor old La Monte, 
 trouble has sure driven him crazy. How on 
 earth he ever got here beats me. There ain't 
 a thing we can do tonight. We couldn't 
 handle him if he got violent. There never 
 was a stronger man in this country than Jean 
 La Monte. My God! It's awful!" 
 
 So it was arranged that the Bosmans 
 should go back to their ranch and send word 
 
144 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 to the Sheriff to be up there early in the 
 morning and that Owen should have some of 
 our men guard the place during the night. 
 
 "Poor devil, I don't believe he'll go away. 
 He seemed so suspicious he wouldn't touch 
 the bread, and I believe he's been here two 
 or three days. See you in the morning," 
 and the Bosmans disappeared in the 
 darkness. 
 
 The thought of the tragedy with which we 
 had so suddenly come in touch, weighed 
 upon us. A living ghost connected us with 
 a past in which we had no part. 
 
 Long after we had left the old place be- 
 hind, the mad singing followed us, except 
 when it was drowned by a sudden crash of 
 thunder. The jagged flashes of lightning 
 illuminated the heavens for a brief second, 
 then left the world shrouded in an impene- 
 trable darkness. ' Rather than risk going 
 through the creek a second time, we had 
 decided to cut across country. 
 
 The prairies were broken by deep gullies 
 washed and torn by the fury of the summer 
 storms. By day, driving was difficult; by 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 145 
 
 night, it was hazardous in the extreme, and 
 after a blinding flash which fairly tore the 
 heavens apart, we were forced to stop the 
 horses for fear of driving into an unseen 
 gulch. The horses, headed toward home and 
 excited and nervous, were hard to control. 
 We drove along in silence, our staring eyes 
 trying to pierce the darkness. It was so 
 dangerous that at last I got out and walked 
 in front of the horses. I could not see; I 
 could only know from the contour of the 
 ground when we were near a gulch or by my 
 outstretched hand tell when we were near 
 the wires of a fence. After a time Gordon 
 took my place, and all the way one or the 
 other walked before the team. The light- 
 ning and thunder were terrific, but still it 
 did not rain. We were worn out with 
 fatigue and anxiety when we finally reached 
 the ranch. 
 
 Steve was standing with his saddle horse 
 at the crossing of the creek, swinging a 
 lighted lantern. When he heard the sound 
 of the wheels he gave a shout. 
 
 "Mr. Brook!" 
 
146 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 "All right," Owen called back. Steve 
 came towards us. 
 
 "What on earth happened ? We've all been 
 plumb worried to death, and Madame Brook, 
 she's most crazy. I've just sent Fred up to 
 the La Monte place to look for you." 
 
 "La Monte place !" we exclaimed as several 
 of the boys, attracted by Steve's shout, came 
 up. "Get on your horse," said Owen, 
 quickly, "and overtake him; there's a mad- 
 man up there." 
 
 Steve did not wait for further instructions, 
 but flung himself on his horse and tore off 
 after Fred. We hurried in to reassure 
 Owen's mother, who was nearly frantic. 
 Later, as she bade us "Good-night," she said 
 very seriously: "Owen, as soon as I am able 
 I am going to Denver. I must be where it 
 is quiet. I simply cannot stand the excite- 
 ment here." 
 
 As the rain began to fall in torrents, we 
 heard the men who had been detailed to 
 guard the La Monte place galloping off. 
 
 An itinerant tailor had pulled into the 
 ranch just before our return, and was peace- 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 147 
 
 fully sleeping in his wagon. He was awak- 
 ened when the horses were driven into the 
 corral, and came out to learn the cause of 
 the commotion. He was so excited when he 
 heard that an insane person was in the 
 vicinity he asked to sleep at the bunk house 
 with the men. They tried to laugh him out 
 of his fears, but his fright was so genuine 
 they told him to "come on." 
 
 The strangeness of the whole affair, the 
 combination of circumstances and pure ner- 
 vous and physical exhaustion kept Owen and 
 me awake a long time. It seemed I had 
 scarcely fallen asleep when I heard someone 
 knock on the door and say: 
 
 "Mr. Brook, Mr, Brook." 
 
 I recognized Mary's voice, and responded 
 for Owen, who was dead asleep. 
 
 "Mrs. Brook, the crazy man is down here 
 at the corral; will you ask Mr. Brook to 
 come out?" 
 
 It didn't take Owen long to dress. It was 
 about five o'clock, and from the window we 
 could see poor old La Monte, still attired in 
 his shirt, sitting in the door of the granary 
 
148 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 playing with a little cotton-wood switch. 
 
 How he had escaped the men who had 
 surrounded the place, and how he had found 
 his way to our ranch were questions no one 
 could answer. 
 
 The first intimation of his presence came 
 in the form of a wild yell from the tailor, 
 who had gotten up early and gone down to 
 the corral to feed his horses. This brought 
 all the men to the bunk house door as the 
 terror-stricken little Jew flung himself into 
 their arms. 
 
 "Mein Gott! Dot crazy man iss here." 
 
 "You're the only crazy man on this 
 ranch," said Bill, taking him by the collar 
 and giving him a shake. "What ails you, 
 anyhow ?" 
 
 "Oh, he iss here, he iss here," wailed the 
 tailor. "He ain't got on no clothes, and 
 we'll all be kilt." The boys left him and 
 went out to investigate. 
 
 It was true. La Monte was there, and 
 after a futile effort on Bill's part to get him 
 to talk the boys retired to the bunk house 
 and sent for Owen. 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 149 
 
 "Gee," Bill said later, "that feller was the 
 doggondest lookin' thing I ever seen, settin' 
 there in what was left of his shirt. His 
 legs was all tore by the fence wires or 
 brambles, his teeth was chatterin' and he 
 was just blue with cold. His eyes had a 
 look in 'em that give me the shivers. I 
 don't wonder he scart that there Jew into a 
 fit. I wasn't very anxious to come clost to 
 him, neither. I ain't scart of anything 
 that's human, but he ain't human, goin' 
 'round folks dressed like that." Bill was a 
 stickler for convention. 
 
 "That's the first thing a person usually 
 does when he goes crazy. Bill — takes off all 
 his clothes." 
 
 Bill gave me an incredulous look. 
 
 "Gosh, I hope I'll be killed ridin' or 
 somethin' and not lose my mind first. It 
 ain't decent." 
 
 The poor demented creature would not 
 speak nor pay any attention to the other 
 men, but when he saw Steve he smiled as 
 he asked : 
 
150 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 "You've come to take me away from them, 
 haven't you?" 
 
 "Yes," Steve said. "WiU you go with 
 me now?" 
 
 La Monte stood up. 
 
 "Yes, if you won't let them get me; those 
 witches want to drag me back to hell, but 
 I've fooled them this time. I've almost 
 caught up with him once or twice and they 
 drag me back." And he walked off quietly 
 by Steve's side. 
 
 Steve took him to the bunkhouse, gave 
 him some coffee and made him lie down on 
 his bed. While Steve sat beside him La 
 Monte slept fitfully, but at the slightest 
 move started and tried to get up. Steve fell 
 in with all his vagaries ; he promised to help 
 him escape the witches and to help him fmd 
 the person for whom he seemed to be 
 searching. 
 
 "Where was he last?" Steve asked, hoping 
 to fmd some clue. 
 
 "Why, on his horse." La Monte sat up 
 and stared wildly into Steve's eyes. "Don't 
 you know, he's always on a horse, a big black 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 151 
 
 horse. He's there just ahead of me, he's 
 always just ahead of me," and he jumped up 
 and started toward the door. 
 
 Steve calmed him again and he fell back 
 on the pillows and lay there in silence, his 
 eyes fixed on the ceiling. 
 
 Six crestfallen cow-punchers returned 
 from the La Monte place. No one knew 
 when the man had left the camp, no one had 
 even caught a glimpse of him. His clothes 
 they had found in the well. 
 
 The Sheriff and his posse came at last. 
 Steve kept his hand on the arm of La Monte 
 as they approached the wagon. It was a 
 tense moment; we were all watching but 
 hidden, fearful lest some trifle would arouse 
 the demon of violence. The men were all 
 armed. 
 
 La Monte put his foot up on the step of 
 the wagon, then took it off, shook his head, 
 turned and walked toward the granary. We 
 held our breath. Steve alone followed him. 
 
 "Come on; you're going with me, aren't 
 you?" 
 
152 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 There was no reply. With his eyes fixed 
 on the ground La Monte ignored Steve com- 
 pletely. Suddenly he stopped and picked up 
 something, the little cotton-wood switch to 
 which the leaves still clung. Holding it 
 tightly, he walked back to the wagon, got in, 
 Steve by his side, and they drove off. 
 
 They were scarcely out of sight when 
 Charley came dashing up with sixty dollars 
 in gold which he had found under a pile of 
 mud at the La Monte place. Owen sent 
 him to overtake the wagon. 
 
 "Is this yours?" Charley asked, as he 
 rode up to them, holding the money out 
 toward La Monte, who only shook his head 
 and looked off across the prairie. Charley 
 turned the money over to Steve. 
 
 When they reached the town. La Monte 
 seemed to become confused and suspicious. 
 He would not speak. He was judged insane 
 and committed to the asylum. Still in 
 charge of the Sheriff, Steve and two other 
 men, he was put on the train. 
 
 "Where did you get him?" the conductor 
 asked the Sheriff. 
 
THE UNEXPECTED 153 
 
 "Up in the country, at the A L ranch." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I know that place; it used to be 
 the old Bohm " 
 
 He never finished his sentence, for La 
 Monte, with a cry, sprang to his feet, looked 
 wildly about, brushed them aside and 
 jumped through the window. 
 
 The train was stopped, and they ran back 
 to where he had fallen. He had broken his 
 leg, but in spite of that fought them off with 
 superhuman strength. With the help of the 
 train crew, he was overpowered at last, 
 bound and taken back to the train. 
 
 Steve told us later it was the most terrible 
 experience he had ever been through. 
 
 "I just couldn't stand the look in his eyes 
 when they got him to the asylum. He 
 didn't say nothin', just kept moanin' all the 
 time. He'd been there for five years, and 
 no one knew how he got away. I suppose 
 it would a come anyhow, but it seemed like 
 it was the mention of Bohm's name that set 
 him off." 
 
X 
 
 AROUND THE CHRISTMAS FIRE 
 
 WITHIN a radius of many miles there 
 were only three small children, and 
 about them our Christmas festivi- 
 ties revolved. They furnished the excuse 
 for the tree, but no v/ork was too pressing, 
 no snow too deep to prevent the boys from 
 bringing the Christmas tree and greens 
 from a small clump of pines which stood on 
 top of a distant hill, like a dark green island 
 in the midst of the prairie sea. 
 
 Early on Christmas morning Steve started 
 out with gaily bedecked baskets for the 
 Mexicans, and at the ranch the greatest 
 excitement prevailed. I dashed franctically 
 between the bunkhouse and our kitchen to 
 be certain that nothing was forgotten. The 
 big turkeys were stuffed to the point of 
 bursting, all the "trimmings" were in readi- 
 ness, and the last savory mince pies were 
 in the ovens. 
 
 154 
 
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS FffiE 155 
 
 Behind the closed doors of the living room 
 the tall tree, festooned with ropes of pop- 
 corn and garlands of gaudy paper chains, 
 glittered and glowed with its tinsel orna- 
 ments and candles. 
 
 Owen divided his attention between his 
 "Santa Glaus" costume and pails of water, 
 which he placed near the tree in case it 
 should catch fire. 
 
 The boys spent most of the morning 
 "slicking up" and put on their red neckties, 
 the outward and visible sign of some impor- 
 tant event, then passed the remaining hours 
 sitting around anxiously awaiting the arrival 
 of the guests of honor and — dinner. 
 
 Sometimes members of the family were 
 with us or some friends were lured from the 
 city by the promise of a "really, truly 
 Christmas," and there were always a few 
 lonely bachelors to whom the holidays, other- 
 wise, would have brought only memories. 
 
 Christmas was our one great annual cele- 
 bration, a day of cheer and happiness, in 
 which everyone joyously shared. It was a 
 new experience in the life of the undomes- 
 
156 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 ticated cow-puncher, but he took as much 
 satisfaction in the fact that "Our tree was 
 a whole lot prettier than the one I've saw 
 in town" as though he had won a roping 
 contest. 
 
 Each year the children and their parents 
 were invited for Christmas dinner. They 
 might be delayed en route by deep snow- 
 drifts, out of which they had to dig them- 
 selves, but they always arrived eventually. 
 We came to have a sincere affection for 
 those children, gentle little wild flowers of 
 the prairie. 
 
 They were very sweet, perfectly ingenu- 
 ous, gazing in round-eyed wonder upon 
 things which to most of us were common- 
 place. 
 
 I never thought of its being anything new 
 in their brief experience until at dinner one 
 of the small boys turned to his mother after 
 tasting a piece of celery and said, "Look, 
 Mamma, 'tain't cabbage and 'tain't onions. 
 What is it?" 
 
 They positively trembled with excitement 
 as they learned to read and laboriously 
 
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS FIRE 157 
 
 spelled out the words in the simple books 
 we gave them. They craved knowledge as a 
 starving man craves bread. 
 
 As Santa Claus, Owen wore a ruddy mask 
 with a long white beard and bristling eye- 
 brows, a fur cap pulled down over his ears, 
 heavy felt boots and his long fur overcoat. 
 He looked and acted the part so perfectly 
 the children for years insisted that "there 
 is a Santa Claus 'cause we've seen him." 
 
 The first Christmas everyone was gath- 
 ered about the tree waiting for this myste- 
 rious personage to appear when Owen sud- 
 denly thought of bells ; he must have sleigh- 
 bells. No self-respecting Santa Claus was 
 complete without them. I was in despair; 
 there wasn't a sleigh-bell within a hundred 
 miles, but Owen insisted that he must 
 jingle. At last after a great deal of argu- 
 ment and searching for something which 
 would give forth bell-like sounds, he finally 
 pranced out before the spell-bound audience 
 with my silver table bell sewed to the top of 
 one of his boots. He had to prance because 
 the bell refused to tinkle unless it was 
 
158 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 shaken, and for the ensuing hour he pranced 
 so vigorously that between the exercise and 
 the fur coat he nearly perished from heat. 
 
 After dinner we all assembled in the big 
 living-room, where my disguised husband 
 presented each person with some little gift 
 and ridiculous toy, accompanied by a still 
 more ridiculous rhyme, over which the boys 
 roared. They enjoyed the jokes most of all. 
 No one escaped ; Owen and I came in for our 
 share with the rest. Mine usually bore 
 veiled or open allusion to my particular pet 
 lamb which had developed strong butting 
 proclivities. He butted friend and foe indis- 
 criminately, so that even my fond eyes were 
 not blinded to his faults, and Owen's re- 
 marks were most uncomplimentary after he 
 had acted as a shield for us when "Jackie" 
 had chased my sister and me all about the 
 yard. 
 
 Later in the afternoon everybody scat- 
 tered — our house guests amused themselves 
 as they chose, riding, driving or hunting 
 coyotes, the boys rode over to the neighbor- 
 ing ranches or went to "town," the store and 
 
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS FIRE 159 
 
 baloon at the railroad station sixteen miles 
 away, but I spent an hour or two playing 
 with the children or reading to them until 
 their father "brought the team around," 
 their happy mother climbed up on the high 
 seat of the lumber-wagon and, clinging to 
 dolls, trains and toys, three blissfully happy 
 but perfectly exhausted little children were 
 wrapped up in quilts and coats, stowed into 
 the back of the wagon and started on the 
 twenty-mile drive "back home." 
 
 It had been an eventful day in their short, 
 barren lives, but for us it was the best part 
 of Christmas, except the evening, when we 
 all gathered about the big fireplace which 
 drew everyone into its circle like a magnet. 
 
 There was nothing prosaic about those 
 who grouped themselves around the great 
 stone fireplaces on the ranches in the old 
 days. Here again were found those con- 
 trasts, so striking and unexpected; univer- 
 sity men who had come West for adventure 
 or investment, men of wealth whose predis- 
 position to weak lungs had sent them in 
 exile to the wilderness, modest young 
 
160 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 Englishmen, those younger sons so often 
 found in the most out-of-the-way corners of 
 the earth, and who, through the sudden 
 demise of a near relative, had such a start- 
 ling way of becoming earls and lords over 
 night; adventurous Scotchmen, brilliant 
 young Irishmen, all smoking contentedly 
 there in the firelight and discussing the 
 "isms" and "ologies" and every other sub- 
 ject under heaven. But most interesting of 
 all were their own reminiscences. 
 
 We were all sitting around the fire one 
 Christm-as night when the conversation 
 turned on adventure, and everyone promised 
 to tell the most thrilling experience he had 
 ever had. 
 
 Two of the men were lying on the big bear- 
 skin before the fire. One, a mining engineer, 
 told of having been captured by bandits and 
 held for a ransom, in some remote corner of 
 Mexico where he had gone to examine a very 
 famous mine. The other, a surveyor for the 
 Union Pacific Railroad, had been lost during 
 a storm and, becoming snow-blind, crawled 
 for five miles on his hands and knees, feel- 
 
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS FIRE 161 
 
 ing the trail with naked, half frozen hands 
 until he reached the creek down which he 
 waded until he came to the camp. 
 
 In a big chair, the firelight playing over 
 her slender figure, sat Janet Courtland, an 
 Eastern woman, who as a mere girl had come 
 West with her young husband and had gone 
 up into Montana where he had bought a 
 large cattle ranch. 
 
 "Come on, Mrs. Courtland, you're next," 
 the Surveyor said as he finished his story. 
 
 "Well," Janet began, "Will and I have had 
 so many experiences I scarcely know which 
 was the most exciting, but I think our en- 
 counter with the Indians was the most thrill- 
 ing from first to last. 
 
 "Will had to go into Miles City on business 
 and I went with him for great unrest had 
 been reported among the Indians and he 
 didn't want to leave me on the ranch alone. 
 We had been in town only a few days when 
 we heard that they were on the war path and 
 Will felt he must go back to the ranch. He 
 wanted me to stay in town, but I wouldn't. 
 K he was going back I was going with him, 
 
162 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 so we started in the buck-board on that long 
 eighty-five mile drive. I'll never forget it. 
 The day was fearfully hot and we were con- 
 stantly looking out for Indians. We had 
 gone about half-way, when we came over the 
 top of a hill and saw a band of Indians just 
 below us. They saw us before we could turn 
 back, we had to go on, and as we came to- 
 wards them they formed into two lines so 
 that we had to drive between them. It was 
 horrible." And Janet gave a shiver at the 
 recollection. "I'll never forget as long as I 
 live those frightful, painted faces. Not an 
 Indian moved; we passed through the line 
 and had gone a short distance beyond, when 
 we heard the report of a gun. Will clapped 
 his hand to his side and said : 'My God, I'm 
 shot. Drive as fast as you can' — and he 
 threw the lines to me. 
 
 "I lashed the horses and we fairly tore. 
 Everything was still, there was only that one 
 shot, the Indians made no attempt to follow 
 us. We did not speak. Will was lying back 
 in the buckboard, his hand pressed to his 
 side. When we had gone out of sight of the 
 
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS FIRE 163 
 
 Indians I stopped the horses and asked Will 
 where he was struck. 
 
 " 'In the side ; I can feel the blood oozing 
 through my fingers,' he said. He took his 
 hand away and gave an exclamation as he 
 looked at it. It was wet but not with blood. 
 We could not find the sign of a wound. We 
 got out to investigate and discovered — ^that 
 just as we passed the Indians the cork flew 
 out of a bottle of root beer we had in the 
 back of the buckboard and struck him in the 
 side. Poor old Willie, no wonder he thought 
 he was shot," and Janet smiled at her hus- 
 band, who laughed with the rest of us. 
 
 "Now, Owen," he said, "I know some of the 
 things you've been through, so you can't beg 
 off," and Owen began his story. 
 
 "In the spring of '81 I came West to Aasit 
 my brother, Ed., on his ranch in Wyoming. 
 I was a tenderfoot, never having been on the 
 plains before — and yet — I had scarcely ar- 
 rived when I announced that the one thing I 
 wanted to do was to kill a buffalo. He told 
 me that if my heart was set on it I should 
 have the chance, but that it was dangerous 
 
164 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 sport even for experienced hunters, as a 
 buffalo frequently turns and gores the horse 
 before it can get out of the way. 
 
 "The very next day the dead body of a 
 professional hunter was brought to the 
 ranch. He had wounded a buffalo bull which 
 had turned, caught with his horn the horse 
 he was riding, thrown him to the ground and 
 gored the hunter to death. The sight of his 
 mangled body was shocking and made a ter- 
 rible impression on my mind, but my purpose 
 was not changed. 
 
 "My brother assigned Al. Turpin the re- 
 sponsibility of serving as my guide. He was 
 one of the best riders on the ranch, cool- 
 headed and a good shot. We took breakfast 
 before daylight in order to get an early start. 
 After riding a considerable distance three 
 dark objects were discovered far away on a 
 hill which sloped toward us. A pair of field 
 glasses confirmed the opinion that they were 
 buffalo lying down. We rode in their direc- 
 tion and kept out of sight, except as we 
 peered cautiously over the top of each 
 succeeding ridge until it was possible to 
 
AEOUND THE CHRISTMAS FIRE 165 
 
 approach no nearer in concealment, when we 
 rode to the top of the nearest hill and were 
 in full view. The buffalo saw us and quick 
 as lightning were on their feet running away. 
 We sent our horses at full speed down the 
 slope, across a level piece of ground and up 
 the hill after them. We were gaining rapidly. 
 My horse was the faster of the two and was 
 in the lead. He was one of the best trained 
 cow ponies I have ever ridden and was my 
 brother's favorite for cutting out cattle. 
 
 "When about thirty yards behind the 
 buffalo, one stopped. The bit I was using 
 was severe. I pulled and threw my horse 
 back on his haunches. The buffalo was an 
 immense bull. He appeared to me as big as a 
 mountain. He turned facing me, his body at 
 an angle, cocked his head on the side, then 
 threw it toward the ground and, quicker than 
 a flash, came down the hill like a landslide. 
 
 "My horse struggled against the bit and 
 tried to jump toward the buffalo and turn 
 him as he would a steer. I tried to swing his 
 head away and dug my spurs into his sides 
 to make him move, but he did not understand 
 
166 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 why he should run from a buffalo. He did 
 respond a little and turned so that his 
 haunches were toward the great brute com- 
 ing down the hill. 
 
 "The head of the buffalo was in striking 
 distance. He looked like a great devil. His 
 beadlike eyes flashed fire. The next instant 
 I expected the horse to be pitched down the 
 hill. I could feel myself thrown into the air 
 and then gored to death when I struck the 
 ground. I could see the mangled body of the 
 dead hunter. 
 
 "While my six-shooter was ■ a powerful 
 gun, I knew that if I should shoot the brute 
 in the head, the ball would not go through 
 the mass of matted hair and the thick skull. 
 Still there was nothing else to do. I thought 
 my time had come. In order to hit him at all 
 it was necessary to shoot over my left arm. 
 In my haste I pulled the trigger too soon. 
 The loud report startled the horse into a run 
 and turned the buffalo. Its discharge, so 
 near my head, gave me a terrible shock. I 
 thought the shot had blown away all the 
 right side of my head and I put up my 
 
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS FIRE 167 
 
 hand to keep my brains from falling out, but 
 there were neither brains nor blood on my 
 hand. The bullet had just grazed my head 
 and gone through the rim of my hat. That 
 brute looked like an infuriated demon. I 
 couldn't have been more frightened if I had 
 met the devil himself at the mouth of hell. 
 
 "When it was all over, I was not in a mood 
 for challenging him again, but as he loped 
 away, Al. ran his horse abreast and from a 
 safe distance put a shot into his brisket. He 
 fell dead. Believe me, I have had many close 
 calls, but that was the one time in all my 
 life when I was really scared." 
 
 "What extraordinary experiences people 
 do have in this country," Will Mason ex- 
 claimed, as he leaned forward to light a fresh 
 cigar. "Speaking of Ed. reminds me of a 
 strange coincidence which happened the 
 year after he came West. 
 
 "We had been together the year before in 
 New York, where we had met a chap named 
 Courtney Drake. He was a Yale man and a 
 member of the University Club, so we saw 
 quite a good deal of him. He was very con- 
 
168 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 genial and one of the most lovable fellows I 
 ever knew. He was married but he seldom 
 spoke of his wife and we never met her. 
 
 "One morning we picked up the paper and 
 were horrified to read that Mrs. Courtney 
 Drake had shot her maid. There it was in 
 glaring headlines, the whole wretched affair. 
 The Drakes were one of the oldest and 
 wealthiest families in New York and it was 
 spicy reading for the scandal lovers I assure 
 you. 
 
 "It seems that Drake had gotten mixed up 
 with this woman when he first came out of 
 college and in order to force him to marry 
 her she told him that she was soon to have a 
 child. He wouldn't believe it, and how she 
 worked it I don't know. She must have been 
 mighty clever, for she and her maid got hold 
 of a baby somewhere and she made Courtney 
 believe it was hers and that he was the 
 father — so he married her. 
 
 "They had only been married a short time 
 when the maid began to demand large sums 
 of 'hush money' and Mrs. Drake gave her 
 whatever she asked, for she was in mortal 
 
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS FIRE 169 
 
 dread of having Drake discover the truth. 
 The girl found blackmail so profitable she 
 became more and more insistent in her 
 demands and nearly drove Mrs. Drake wild. 
 At last she could endure it no longer and in 
 a perfect frenzy, shot and killed the maid 
 and then the whole thing came out. Mrs. 
 Drake was sent to prison, where she died 
 later, but Courtney vanished utterly after 
 the trial — no one knew what became of him. 
 
 "The next fall Ed. and I came West and 
 two years later were up in the Jackson's Hole 
 country with a party, shooting. Ed. and one 
 of the guides went out one morning to get 
 some ducks, but in a short time they came 
 back to camp carrying the dead body of 
 Courtney Drake. They had come across his 
 body on the shore of a small lake, lying face 
 down in the mud. There was a single bullet 
 hole in the back of his head. 
 
 "Think of his having been found out there 
 in the wilderness by the only man in the 
 country who knew who he was ! Talk about 
 chance," Will sighed, "Poor devil, he was 
 Hving out there under an assumed name. 
 
170 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 His family had no idea where he was. Ed. 
 notified them and then took his body East. 
 
 "Just after his death Drake's partner pro- 
 duced a bill of sale for the entire ranch and 
 took possession of it. Everyone suspected 
 him of the murder, but it couldn't be proved. 
 About three years later the man killed his 
 wife and at the time of his conviction the 
 question of Drake's murder was brought up 
 and he confessed. Isn't it strange the way 
 things happen?" Will's question was gen- 
 eral. "What on earth do you suppose sent 
 Ed. Brook into the Jackson's Hole country 
 at that one time of all others ?" 
 
 No one answered. 
 
 "I wonder if all new countries abound in 
 such tragic mysteries?" The Surveyor 
 looked up at me. 
 
 "What tragic mysteries have you encoun- 
 tered, Mrs. Brook, that makes you speak so 
 feelingly?" 
 
 Just then the clock struck twelve and I 
 got up. 
 
 "It's too late for more mysteries, it's time 
 to go to bed — and we don't want tragedies 
 
AROUND THE CHRISTMAS FHIE 171 
 
 to keep us wide awake on Christmas night." 
 "Oh, come on Esther, tell us your most 
 thrilling experience," they begged. "We 
 won't move a step until you do." 
 
 "Marrying Owen," I replied, looking over 
 at my unsuspecting husband, 'Tve never had 
 a chance to get my breath since." 
 
 And amid a shout of laughter the Christ- 
 mas party broke up. 
 
XI 
 TED 
 
 TED landed in our midst with all the 
 attendant violence of a meteor. 
 He didn't arrive, he landed, bag and 
 baggage, and until his departure weeks later 
 our tranquil existence was sufficiently hectic 
 to suit even Bill. 
 
 After numerous letters from his doting 
 aunt, we reluctantly consented to look after 
 Ted while she was in Europe recuperating 
 from a nervous break-down. At the end of 
 the first week, we understood why Aunt 
 Elizabeth found recuperation necessary, and 
 I suggested to Owen, it might be well to en- 
 gage our passage on a later steamer, for I 
 had a premonition that my own nerves might 
 require a rest after two months of Ted's 
 strenuous companionship. 
 
 He wasn't bad; there was not a bad thing 
 about him. He was just overflowing with 
 172 
 
TED 173 
 
 youth and energy, which had been pent up 
 for years, between boarding school in the 
 winter and Newport in the summer. 
 
 Motherless, fatherless, rich, neglected or 
 over-indulged by a none too wise aunt, Ted 
 was an appealing young person, a character 
 easily to be made or marred by circum- 
 stances. 
 
 He looked like a member of the celestial 
 choir — ^blue-eyed, fair-haired and mild — ^but 
 he produced the effect of a Kansas cyclone. 
 
 There was nothing he did not see, there 
 was nothing he did not hear and there was 
 nothing he did not do. Even on eighty thou- 
 sand acres of land his activities were some- 
 what limited. 
 
 He was wildly enthusiastic about the West, 
 fascinated by the men, and was Bill's 
 shadow, so we promptly turned him over to 
 those "rough persons" Aunt Elizabeth had 
 especially hoped that he might avoid, to get 
 it all out of his system. 
 
 "Let him stay at the bunk-house," Owen 
 advised after Ted had besought me to allow 
 him to stay with the men, "It will do him 
 
174 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 more good than anything else in the world, 
 if he has the right stuff in him." 
 
 Ted stood on the porch, uneasily shifting 
 from one foot to the other, when I came out 
 of the office. 
 
 "All right, Ted, Mr. Brook and I are per- 
 fectly willing for you to stay with the men, 
 if you really want to." 
 
 He hopped up and down and almost em- 
 braced me in his joy. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Brook." "You see," 
 he explained, carefully, "I've seen people like 
 you and Mr. Brook all my life, but I never 
 had the chance to be with real cow-punchers 
 before. Evidently, from Ted's point of view, 
 Owen and I were very commonplace individ- 
 uals compared to these heroes of the prairie, 
 and I laughed to myself as he bounded down 
 the steps to break the joyful news to Bill 
 that he was to share his bed and board. 
 
 The next day we had to go to town to 
 meet some prospective wool buyers, and, 
 after having his breakfast interrupted five 
 different times by Ted's dashing in to see if 
 we were ready, Owen was moved to inquire 
 
TED 175 
 
 finally, "What on earth is on the boy's mind 
 now?" 
 
 "His outfit," I answered. "He's been plan- 
 ning it for days ; wishes to select it himself 
 and we are not to see it until we get home." 
 
 That was a wise stipulation of Ted's, for 
 if we had seen it, we should never have been 
 able to get home. 
 
 He put it on as soon as we reached the 
 ranch, and when he finally emerged, the 
 flaming sunset paled with chagrin at its 
 futile effort of years. 
 
 The "outfit" consisted of tan corduroy 
 trousers, chaps of long silky angora wool, 
 which had been dyed a brilliant orange, a 
 shirt of vivid green, a bright red silk hand- 
 kerchief for his neck, an enormous Stetson 
 hat, high-heeled tan boots, silver studded 
 belt and huge spurs. 
 
 We gasped when we saw him, but he 
 was so intent on showing himself to Bill, 
 as to be utterly unconscious of the effect he 
 produced. 
 
 We followed him into the yard where the 
 boys were waiting the call to supper. Bill 
 
176 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 looked up from the quirt he was braiding and 
 bUnked. 
 
 "Gosh ! I thought the sun had set an hour 
 ago," he remarked. 
 
 "No," Ted laughingly responded, giving 
 him a push, "but he's going to 'set' now," 
 and he threw himself down by Bill's side. 
 "I knew you fellows would guy me, but all 
 the same I think this outfit's great," and he 
 surveyed himself with infinite pride and 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "It's all right," said Bill, taking in all the 
 details of the resplendent costume, and look- 
 ing up at Owen and me with twinkling eyes, 
 "I like somethin' a little gay myself; but 
 round here where everything's green, we 
 won't be able to tell you from a bunch of 
 soap-weed," and Ted good naturedly joined 
 in the laugh at his own expense. 
 
 "Wouldn't his Aunt Elizabeth die of heart- 
 failure if she could see him now?" I asked 
 Owen as we went into the house. 
 
 "She certainly would," he answered, "but 
 we'll trust to luck and let Nature take its 
 course." 
 
TED 177 
 
 Everything, including Nature, took its 
 course rapidly with Ted, and for the next 
 few weeks wise prairie dogs, rabbits and 
 rattle-snakes stayed in their holes. By the 
 end of his stay that energetic young person 
 had enough rattle-snake skins to provide 
 belts and hat-bands for all of New York, and 
 scores of live prairie-dogs he had trapped to 
 be shipped to his aunt's place in Newport. 
 
 I tried to picture the joy of Aunt Elizabeth 
 and her neighbors when they found informal 
 prairie-dog towns in the midst of their for- 
 mal gardens. If life is measured by exper- 
 iences, a few additional years were in store 
 for Newport. 
 
 Bill taught Ted to shoot and he spent 
 hours and a fortune shooting at old tin cans 
 on a post before Bill finally consented to say : 
 
 "I've saw fellers do worse," the sweetest 
 praise that ever fell on mortal ears, judging 
 by Ted's expression. 
 
 And, then, Owen went to New Mexico to 
 buy some sheep and Bohm came to sleep on 
 a claim. 
 
 This claim was one over which Owen and 
 
178 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 Bohm had been having a controversy for 
 months. It had been included in the sale of 
 the ranch, and after one of our most im- 
 portant sheep camps had been built upon it, 
 Owen discovered that Bohm could not give 
 a deed to it, as he had not made final proof 
 on the land. 
 
 Bohm never ceased to regret having sold 
 the ranch, and had never forgiven Owen for 
 buying it and making him Uve up to his con- 
 tract, so was only too glad of the opportunity 
 to cause him all the trouble possible. Time 
 after time he promised to come out and 
 "prove up", but he never came, so although 
 I was most anxious to have him come, I was 
 far from pleased to have him about when 
 Owen was away. 
 
 Ted, however, was overjoyed; he seemed 
 to feel that Providence had arranged Bohm's 
 visit to the ranch for his especial entertain- 
 ment, and from the moment the old chap 
 arrived Ted dogged his footsteps. 
 
 At first, old Bohm seemed quite flattered 
 and laughed and joked with him, praised his 
 shooting, told him stories of the Indian days, 
 
TED 179 
 
 promised to show him the underground 
 passage to an abandoned stage station, but 
 later he became annoyed, for no clinging burr 
 ever clung more closely than Ted. He 
 scarcely allowed Bohm to get out of his sight 
 for one moment. 
 
 How much the boy had heard of old 
 Bohm's history I did not know, but I con- 
 cluded a few rumors had reached those ever- 
 attentive ears, for one day he came in fairly 
 beaming. 
 
 "Gosh ! Pudge and Soapy haven't got any- 
 thing on me, they've only seen Buffalo Bill 
 in a show, and I'm right in the same house 
 with a man that's a holy terror !" 
 
 "What do you mean, Ted?" I asked, 
 anxious to find out how much he had heard. 
 
 "Oh, you know well enough, Mrs. Brook," 
 he laughed, going to the door as he saw old 
 Bohm on his way to the bam. "Yon can't 
 fool me. Gee! I wouldn't have missed him 
 for the world. The fellows'll just be sick 
 when I tell them." 
 
 "The fellows" were evidently "Pudge" and 
 "Soapy", his two chums at St. Paul's, 
 
180 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 "Pudge" because of "his shape," as Ted ex- 
 plained, and "Soapy", whose parental mil- 
 lions came from the manufacturing of soap. 
 
 The game between the boy and Bohm was 
 amusing. Clever as the old chap was, he 
 couldn't evade Ted's watchful eye. If Bohm 
 thought him miles away, he suddenly ap- 
 peared with such an unconscious air of inno- 
 cence he disarmed all suspicion, but he made 
 Bohm uneasy. 
 
 "Quit campin' on the old man's trail, Kid," 
 said Bill one evening at the corral after Ted 
 had driven Bohm to the bunk-house to escape 
 his questions. "You're gettin' on his nerves ; 
 let him go and sleep on his claim and get 
 through with it. You and me's got to hunt 
 horses tomorrow, anyways." 
 
 Ted cheerfully acquiesced, and old Bohm 
 loaded his wagon alone and drove toward his 
 claim in peace. 
 
 The next morning very early, I heard Bill 
 calling Ted. No Ted appeared, and I went 
 out to see where he was. 
 
 "Where do you reckon that crazy kid's went 
 now?" demanded Bill, impatient to start. 
 
TED 181 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know, Bill, hunting 
 prairie-dogs, probably. Don't wait for him, 
 if you're ready to go." 
 
 "Huntin' prairie-dogs," echoed Bill. "I'll 
 bet a hat he's huntin' old Bohm some- 
 wheres." He frowned as he cinched up his 
 saddle. "I reckon I'd better ride over that 
 way and see what he's up to." 
 
 "I wish you would," I said, vaguely uneasy. 
 "I don't want him to bother Bohm too 
 much." 
 
 "Me neither," said Bill, getting on his 
 horse, "there's his pony's tracks now," he 
 looked at the ground. "I'll find him and take 
 him along with me. Don't you worry, he's 
 all right, but he sure is a corker — that kid," 
 and Bill galloped off. 
 
 I felt confident that he would overtake the 
 lad, so I dismissed them all from my mind 
 and settled down to an uninterrupted morn- 
 ing, and a delayed postal report. 
 
 I was busy all day and was just starting 
 out for a little walk before supper when Bill 
 and Ted rode up. 
 
 Bill and Ted, hatless, clothes torn and 
 
182 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 covered with dirt and blood, their faces 
 scratched and bruised, and Ted regarding me 
 triumphantly from one half-closed eye, the 
 other being swollen shut. 
 
 "What on earth hap — " I tried to ask, my 
 breath fairly taken away. Bill got off his 
 horse and came up to the gate. 
 
 "We're all right, Mrs. Brook. I'm sorry 
 you seen us 'fore we got fixed up a little ; we 
 just got mixed up some with Bohm — that's 
 all — 'taint nothin' serious. We look a whole 
 lot worse than we feel, don't we Ted ?" 
 
 "You bet we do," mumbled Ted from a cut 
 and bleeding mouth, "but you ought to see 
 Bohm, he's a sight!" 
 
 Ted got off his horse with difficulty. 
 "Gosh, it was great," he said, leaning up 
 against the fence for support. 
 
 "Come in and sit down, both of you, 
 Charley will take your horses," and I led the 
 way into the house followed a little unstead- 
 ily by Bill and Ted, who collapsed on the first 
 chairs they could reach. 
 
 I gave them some wine, washed off their 
 blood-stained faces, and made protesting Ted 
 
TED 183 
 
 go into my room and lie down. He was 
 very pale, and I saw that he was faint. 
 
 I came back into the kitchen. 
 
 "Now, Bill, tell me about it. What hap- 
 pened and where is Bohm?" 
 
 "On his way back to Denver in the bag- 
 gage car," announced Bill, draining the last 
 drop from the glass he still held in his hand. 
 
 I started, "Oh, Bill, you didn't kill him?" 
 
 "No, but I wisht I had," he said calmly. 
 He'd oughter be dead, the old skunk, trying 
 to poison all them sheep." 
 
 "Poison the sheep ; what sheep ?" 
 
 "Your sheep," Bill's brows contracted as 
 he looked at me. "Your sheep," he repeated, 
 his voice rising as I scarcely seemed able to 
 grasp his meaning. "All the sheep at Hay 
 Gulch Camp, that's what he came out here 
 for, and he'd a done it, too, if it hadn't been 
 for that kid in there." Bill jerked his head 
 in the direction of my room. 
 
 "Ted?" I asked, my emotion stifling my 
 voice. 
 
 "Ted," Bill affirmed, "he caught him at it 
 red-handed, and probably saved two thous- 
 
Missing Page 
 
Missing Page 
 
186 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 I was incapable of speech. I just stared at 
 Bill. 
 
 "There ain't no doubt about Bohm's bein' 
 ready to kill him; he was on top then and 
 reachin' for his throat. I didn't stop to ask 
 no questions. I jest grabbed him, and pulled 
 him off of Ted. He was white as chalk and 
 ready to eat us both alive, but I hung on to 
 him while Ted got up cryin', 'Look what he's 
 done. Bill, look what he's done,' and pointed 
 at somethin' on the ground." 
 
 Bill's eyes were like two live coals. "Bohm 
 was cussin' like a steam engine 'bout the 
 kid's jumpin' him when he was puttin' out 
 poison for the prairie-dogs. I just took one 
 look around and seen all them piles of poison 
 wheat there by the corral when there wasn't 
 a prairie-dog within two miles. I — ^well, I 
 aint goin' to tell you what I said, Mrs. Brook, 
 'taint fit for you to hear." 
 
 Bill looked down and turned the glass on 
 the table around and around. He looked up 
 again and smiled, but his brows contracted 
 as he went on — "We had words then, sure 
 enough. All of a sudden Bohm made a lunge 
 
TED 187 
 
 and caught the handkerchief round my neck 
 with one hand and reached for somethin' 
 with the other, and the first thing I knew he 
 was slashin' at me with a pocket knife. I 
 guess I saw red then, 'cause I knocked him 
 down and nearly pounded the hfe out of 
 him." 
 
 Bill stopped a moment — "His eyes was 
 rolUn' back in his head and his tongue was 
 hangin' out and there was a pool of blood 
 'round us, three yards across." Bill's 
 description was so vivid I shut my eyes. "I 
 reckon I'd killed him if Ted hadn't tromped 
 my legs and kinda brought me to myself. 
 He'd oughter been killed, but I let him up 
 then and told Ted to go for my rope. We 
 tied his hands and legs. I guess he had 
 about all he wanted for he wasn't strugglin' 
 much." Bill smiled grimly. "We carried 
 him into the cabin, and there was the Mexi- 
 can lying in his bunk — doped. We knew who 
 done it all right, and I tell you we didn't 
 handle Bohm like no suckin' infant when we 
 laid him down, neither." 
 
 Bill's face was stem and set and I shared 
 
188 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 his indignation too much to trust myself to 
 speak. 
 
 "We left him there and went to get the 
 wheat out of the way before we opened the 
 corral gates for the sheep. Thanks to Ted, 
 Bohm hadn't had time to put much around. 
 He's a great little kid, that boy." Bill's voice 
 broke. 
 
 "Bless his heart," I said, my own heart 
 filled with gratitude and tenderness for the 
 plucky little chap in the other room. Bill's 
 eyes were moist, but his voice was steady 
 again. 
 
 "Steve and Charley came up just then with 
 the supply wagon, so Steve set Charley to 
 herd the sheep. We loaded Bohm into the 
 wagon and Steve took him over to the rail- 
 road. He said he'd see he got on the train 
 all right." Bill grinned, "You're rid of Bohm 
 for good now, Mrs. Brook, for I kinda think 
 he gathered from what me and Steve said 
 the ranch wouldn't be no health resort for 
 him if he ever showed his ugly face round 
 here again." 
 
 "Oh, Bill, I'm so thankful; it makes me 
 
TED 189 
 
 sick when I think what might have hap- 
 pened." 
 
 "Don't thank me, Mrs. Brook, I ain't done 
 nothin'." Bill's face was red with embar- 
 rassment as he stood up. "Ted's the one to 
 thank, he's some kid, believe me," and Bill's 
 eyes were very tender. 
 
 "Let's go in and see how he's making it." 
 Bill followed me into the room. 
 
 Ted was sitting up on the couch, regarding 
 his battered visage in my hand-glass with 
 the greatest interest. I could see at once he 
 was in no mood for emotion or petting. 
 
 "Hello, I'm all right," he murmured with 
 a one-sided grin. "Say, Bill, wasn't it great? 
 I wouldn't have missed it for a million dol-~ 
 lars." He sank back with a sigh of supreme 
 satisfaction. "I just wish I could remember 
 all the things he called me. I want to spring 
 them on the fellows when I go back." 
 
 Bill looked at him with genuine concern. 
 "See here, kid," he said decidedly, "you want 
 to forget all them things as quick as you can. 
 Don't you go springin' any such language 
 back where you come from. I'm no innocent 
 
190 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 babe myself, but I'm here to tell you old 
 Bohm's cussin' made anything I ever heard 
 sound like a Sunday School piece. You for- 
 get it now, pronto," he commanded as he 
 went out of the door. "It's a reflection on 
 me and Mrs. Brook." 
 
 After Bill had gone, Ted looked at himself 
 again, then at me. "What do you suppose 
 Aunt Elizabeth would say if she could see me 
 now?" We both laughed. 
 
 "I would be a 'disgrace to my family and 
 position' now, sure enough." He felt his 
 blackened eye tenderly, 
 
 I sat down on the couch beside him. "You 
 will never be more of a credit to your family 
 than you are at this minute, Ted, nor more of 
 a man." 
 
 He looked up, for my voice shook a little. 
 He knew what I meant and his lips twitched 
 as he patted my hand gently, and turned his 
 face away. 
 
XII 
 BLIZZARDS 
 
 IT was just like Louise Reynolds to arrive 
 on the wings of a blizzard, wearing a 
 straw hat and spring suit. Louise led 
 the seasons, she never followed them, and 
 she preceded that particular storm by about 
 two hours; but she was justified, for it was 
 April and she was on her way from Cali- 
 fornia. 
 
 In this land of the unexpected even the 
 weather disregarded all established prece- 
 dents. A glorious Indian Summer night 
 extended into January, or a sudden blizzard 
 would swoop down from the North in Octo- 
 ber or April and leave us snowed in for days. 
 
 That is exactly what happened upon this 
 occasion and most of Louise's visit was spent 
 in shovelling snow for the pure joy of the 
 exercise. That energetic young person had 
 to do something in lieu of tennis or golf. 
 191 
 
192 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 The prairies were covered with a fluffy 
 mantle of purest white, great drifts filled the 
 gulches and the roads were utterly obht- 
 erated. Long after the storm the men had 
 to go about on horseback for no wagon could 
 be moved through the deep snow. 
 
 At this juncture Louise announced that 
 she had aU of her reservations through to 
 Baltimore, where she was to officiate as 
 bridesmaid. She was obliged to go and we 
 had to take her to the railroad. 
 
 We could scarcely go on horseback with 
 baggage, there wasn't a sleigh in the coun- 
 try, certainly none on the ranch, but if 
 Necessity was the Mother of Invention, Owen 
 was a near relative. He never failed to find 
 some way of meeting the most difficult prob- 
 lem. If Louise must go it devolved upon him 
 to see that she reached the station and so he 
 produced a sled, a disreputable old affair, 
 used for the exalted purpose of hauling dead 
 animals to "the dump" — ^but still it was a 
 sled and under Owen's direction it was 
 scrubbed and transformed into the most 
 luxurious equippage by having a packing box 
 
BLIZZARDS 193 
 
 nailed on the back and covered with rugs. 
 Louise and I perched on the box, with heavy 
 robes tucked in about us, the suit cases were 
 at our feet and Owen sat on the trunk in 
 front to drive. 
 
 There was only one draw-back, the sled 
 had no tongue to keep it from running on to 
 the heels of the horses, so Owen cut a hole 
 in the bottom of the sled through which he 
 stuck a broom-stick. My task was to work 
 this improvised brake when we went down 
 hill by jabbing the broom-stick into the 
 snow. It worked beautifully except that the 
 friction against the hard snow broke pieces 
 of it off and it grew perceptibly shorter as we 
 advanced. 
 
 In order to avoid some especially deep 
 gulches we left the valley and followed a high 
 ridge. It was much longer, but we had 
 allowed the entire day for the trip. There 
 was no danger of becoming lost as long as we 
 could see, for we knew too well the country 
 and the general direction to be followed. 
 
 No incident marred the joy of that day. 
 When the horses floundered and almost dis- 
 
194 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 appeared from sight in a snow-filled gulch, 
 leaving the sled stranded like an Ark on a 
 gleaming Ararat, we had only to dig the 
 horses out with a shovel which had been 
 taken for the purpose and after getting them 
 on the level ground, go back and hitch a long 
 rope to the sled, draw it across the gulch and 
 proceed upon our way. 
 
 The light of the sun upon the snow was so 
 intense it was necessary to wear colored 
 glasses to avoid snow blindness, and being 
 muffled in furs, we looked like three bears in 
 goggles. Our wraps kept us perfectly warm 
 and it was a merry ride. The adventure 
 filled us with joy as we glided over the track- 
 less world in which we alone moved. 
 
 There was no suggestion of dreariness or 
 desolation in the scene. Under the magic 
 touch of the sun the world burst forth into 
 a miracle of glory and beauty which held us 
 spellbound. The sky was cloudless, not a 
 shadow fell across that dazzling white ex- 
 panse, which flashed and sparkled with all 
 the prismatic colors. Far to the west Pike's 
 Peak stood, a marvel of varying lights and 
 
BLIZZARDS 195 
 
 shadows, its head resting on the soft blue 
 bosom of the sky. Its commanding height 
 had filled the Indian of the Plains with wor- 
 shipful awe, it was to him "the Gate of 
 Heaven, the abiding place of the Great 
 Spirit." According to his own testimony, the 
 one inevitable duty in the life of the Indian 
 is tne duty of prayer — and how often as he 
 looked upon that distant mountain must the 
 red hunter have paused in the midst of the 
 Tast prairies, his soul uplifted and an un- 
 spoken prayer on his lips ! 
 
 The whole aspect of the country was 
 changed, all the familiar landmarks were 
 gone. Except for the hills, the surface of the 
 prairie was perfectly level as though the 
 Great Spirit had stretched his hand forth 
 from that mystic mountain and passing it 
 over the world had left it smooth and stain- 
 less. 
 
 It was a wonderful experience, and when 
 toward evening we reached the railroad we 
 were thrilled and triumphant over our accom- 
 plishment. The night was spent in the little 
 four-room "hotel," we saw Louise safely on 
 
196 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 board the eastbound express the next morn- 
 ing, then returned to the ranch. 
 
 To be out after a blizzard is one thing, to 
 be out in one is quite another, and we always 
 grew apprehensive when the sky became 
 suddenly overcast and the snow began to 
 fall from leaden clouds. What if the storm 
 should catch the herders and the sheep too 
 far away from the camp? 
 
 They were all warned to range their sheep 
 to the North if it threatened to storm, as 
 n:ost of the blizzards came from that direc- 
 tion and the sheep would go before the wind 
 back to camp and safety. But they will not 
 face it and, if unmindful of his orders, the 
 herder took them South and a sudden storm 
 came, he could not turn his sheep back to 
 the camp ; they would drift on and on before 
 the wind, sometimes plimging over a bank to 
 be buried beneath the drifting snow or piling 
 up and smothering each other. 
 
 One winter just as Owen and I were start- 
 ing home from California we received a tele- 
 gram from Steve saying that during a bliz- 
 
BLIZZARDS 197 
 
 zard the buck herd had been lost. Owen had 
 some very important business which detained 
 him when we reached Denver, so he asked 
 me to go on to the ranch, have Steve organize 
 the men into searching parties and look 
 through every gulch in the vicinity for any 
 discolored holes on the top of the drifts which 
 would be caused by the breath of the sheep 
 if they were under the snow. For two days 
 the men searched and finally came to a deep 
 bank of snow on the top of which were found 
 the discolored holes they sought; they dug 
 down and discovered the bucks. A few had 
 been smothered, but most of them were 
 taken out alive after having been buried for 
 ten days ! During the storm the herder had 
 left them and the poor distracted things had 
 drifted over an embankment and were en- 
 tombed under the snow. 
 
 When anyone speaks of "good-for-nothing 
 Mexicans" I think of Fidel, a mere lad, who 
 had taken his sheep South on a clear morn- 
 ing, but was overtaken by a storm before he 
 could get them back to the corrals. He and 
 his dog did everything they could do to turn 
 
198 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 them, but they drifted farther and farther 
 away. Fidel stayed with them, guiding them 
 away from the gulches until they reached a 
 railway cut. There Steve found them twenty- 
 four hours later when we feared that Fidel 
 had perished with his sheep. Facing death 
 alone in the freezing wind and blinding, 
 smothering snow, hour after hour he had 
 kept his sheep from piling up. He not only 
 saved them all, but they were in better con- 
 dition than many in the corrals at the camps. 
 Not for a moment had he left them. His 
 hands and feet were frozen; he barely 
 escaped freezing to death and on that day 
 we learned the true meaning of "Fidelity." 
 
 Then once more Fate took a hand in our 
 affairs and a blizzard changed the whole 
 course of our lives. 
 
 We owned our land and no one could en- 
 croach upon us, but after a few years we 
 began to notice forlorn little shacks built 
 here and there on the open range by the poor 
 home-seekers who, attracted by the prospect 
 jpf free land, had begun "homesteading." 
 
BLIZZARDS 199 
 
 They built flimsy little houses, scratched up 
 the surface of the prairie for a few inches 
 and raised pitiful, straggling crops. The 
 settlers were coming in ! The opening wedge 
 of that great onrush had been thrust deep 
 into the heart of the prairie. In the undis- 
 puted possession of our own land we were 
 not disturbed. While we knew that it meant 
 the occupation of the free range and the 
 passing of the large ranches, eventually, we 
 scarcely realized how soon it would come and 
 were not prepared to receive an offer from 
 an Eastern syndicate to buy the entire ranch 
 — to cut it into small units to be sold as 
 farms. 
 
 The era of "dry-farming" had just begun, 
 when by scientific methods, deep ploughing 
 and the conservation of all moisture, dry 
 land might be successfully cultivated without 
 irrigation. It was a dream of the future of 
 the prairie region, impossible to visualize, 
 and I laughed in my ignorance, as Owen read 
 me the letter. 
 
 "How perfectly absurd. Imagine trying to 
 farm out here; the grangers would starve to 
 
200 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 death in a year unless they had stock of some 
 sort. Surely you would never think of selling 
 out?" 
 
 "I don't know, Esther, the homesteaders 
 can't come on to our deeded land, but they 
 are filing on all the Government land. In a 
 short time there will be no more free range, 
 and did you ever stop to consider that our 
 land will soon be so valuable that we can't 
 afford to run sheep on it?" 
 
 In that last sentence I saw the handwrit- 
 ing on the wall. It was only a question of 
 time and this phase, too, of our life would 
 pass. 
 
 In the East life seems to be static, but in 
 the West it is in a state of flux and conditions 
 are constantly changing. 
 
 Perhaps I had inherited the static state of 
 mind for I had taken it for granted that all 
 the rest of our days were to be spent there 
 on the ranch under the shadow of the moun- 
 tain. Suddenly a realization of the facts 
 swept over me. In a sense we had been 
 pioneers, we had blazed a trail that others 
 were to follow and like the Indians we, too, 
 
BLIZZARDS 201 
 
 were destined to move on. However, before 
 you are thirty to regard yourself as a hoary- 
 headed pioneer requires a series of mental 
 gymnastics and, while my brain was going 
 through a few preparatory exercises, I did 
 not take the question of selling out very 
 seriously. After all those years of struggle 
 just as it had been brought to perfection, 
 after we had put into it the best of our life, 
 youth, energy and work, a part of our very 
 selves, it did not seem possible that we could 
 part with the ranch. Owen felt much as I 
 did, but he was the first to realize that we 
 had come again to the parting of the ways 
 and that a decision must be made. 
 
 Yet — in the end — it wasn't the financial 
 consideration nor a deep conviction that the 
 future development of the country would be 
 retarded if we remained, but an unexpected 
 blizzard which turned the scale and set us 
 adrift again. 
 
 The sun rose clear on the 19th of October, 
 but during the morning it began to grow 
 cloudy. 
 
202 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 Owen and several of the men were at the 
 railroad station where they were shipping 
 lambs. During the afternoon the wind began 
 to blow, it grew much colder and snow fell. 
 
 The next morning it was storming very 
 hard and Steve, after arranging to have hay 
 hauled to the various camps, went out on 
 horseback to see that all the sheep were kept 
 in the corrals. I was greatly relieved when 
 Owen got home in the middle of the after- 
 noon. Ten thousand lambs had been loaded 
 and started on their way in spite of the 
 storm, but the drive back to the ranch had 
 been very hard, for hour by hour the storm 
 increased in fury. The ground was covered 
 and even the dull grey sky was hidden by 
 dense clouds of powdery snow which did not 
 seem to fall upon the earth but was blown 
 in long horizontal lines across the prairies by 
 the force of a mighty gale. It filled the 
 gulches and piled in deep drifts. It was 
 driven against the house with such force it 
 sifted through the smallest crack. The win- 
 dows on the North and West were covered 
 with a solid coating of snow, the wind 
 
BLIZZARDS 203 
 
 whistled and moaned and tore at the shutters 
 as if trying to carry them with it on a wild 
 race over the plains. It was impossible to 
 see the corrals, even the garden fence was 
 lost behind the driving, swirling snow. To 
 open the door was to inhale a freezing gust 
 of snow-laden air, millions of icy particles 
 blinded the eyes and took away the breath. 
 
 We knew that the sheep were all in the 
 corrals, but we feared that unless the herders 
 watched them carefully they would pile up 
 as the snow drifted over the high sides of the 
 inclosure. The rest of the stock was pro- 
 tected and my heart was filled with thank- 
 fulness that Owen and the men had been able 
 to reach the ranch. They went about the 
 place like white wraiths doing the necessary 
 things. Above the howling of the wind not a 
 sound could be heard; a shout was carried 
 miles away as soon as it left the lips. By 
 five o'clock it was dark. 
 
 About eight o'clock, Mary came in and told 
 Owen that Steve wanted to see him. When 
 Owen returned, instead of coming into the 
 living-room, he went to the closet, took down 
 
204 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 his short, fleece-lined riding coat and began 
 to put it on. 
 
 "What's the matter, Owen, you are not 
 going out ?" 
 
 "I must," he said, quietly, winding a long 
 scarf about his neck, "Steve says that Dom 
 went out yesterday afternoon with a load of 
 hay for the camp on Six Shooter; he should 
 have come back last night or certainly this 
 morning. He's new and doesn't know the 
 country and he may be lost. I'm going to 
 see if I can find him." 
 
 My heart stood still; the camp on Six 
 Shooter gulch was fully eight miles away. 
 Eight miles in that storm! It did not seem 
 possible that a man could live to go a mile. 
 
 "Oh, Owen, I can't let you go ! Don't you 
 suppose he is at the camp ?" 
 
 "I don't know, he may be, but I must go 
 and find out. We can't take a chance on a 
 man's being lost." In the face of that argu- 
 ment there was nothing to say and nothing 
 to do but accept it. 
 
 "Who is going with you?" 
 
 "No one" — Owen did not look at me as he 
 
BLIZZARDS 205 
 
 answered — "I can't ask any of the men to 
 face this storm." 
 
 I understood ; he couldn't require any of his 
 men to risk their lives. A hand of ice closed 
 about my heart and deadened pvery sensi- 
 bility. Like a machine I went about helping 
 Owen get ready and at last went to the kit- 
 chen to bring him some coffee just before he 
 left. A man was standing by the door 
 muffled in wraps. I stood still. 
 
 "Why, Bill, where have you been?" 
 
 "I ain't 'been', I'm goin'. I'm goin' with 
 Mr. Brook. A man ain't got no business out 
 a night like this alone." 
 
 "Bill!" It was all I could say — ^but he 
 understood. 
 
 When Owen came out he tried to dissaude 
 him, but Bill was determined. 
 
 "I know I don't have to go, Mr. Brook, you 
 never asked me, but I'm a goin', there ain't 
 nothin' can keep me." 
 
 I had never seen him so serious, all the old 
 half bantering tone was gone and they went 
 out together, master and man, each risking 
 his life for the sake of another. 
 
206 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 I tried to watch them but instantly they 
 were lost to my sight as a vague grey cloud 
 closed about them. 
 
 How the night passed I do not know. I 
 kept the fires up and the coffee hot and 
 walked miles, back and forth, back and forth. 
 I did not think of sleeping. It was useless to 
 try to read. I could not see the words — the 
 printed page was blank and I could only see 
 the figures of two men on horseback, beaten, 
 buffeted, fighting for their lives against the 
 cruel snow-laden gale. I saw them separated, 
 perhaps, trying to get through the gulches 
 on their floundering horses, or walking to 
 keep from freezing and then perhaps ex- 
 hausted — lying down to rest while that last 
 deadly sensation of sleepiness crept over 
 them. 
 
 Daylight came at last, but still I walked. 
 I pushed my breakfast away untasted and 
 tried to occupy myself with the duties of the 
 day. I felt as though I should scream aloud 
 if that howling wind did not cease, but hour 
 after hour passed and there was no other 
 sound. The men came and went about their 
 
BLIZZARDS 207 
 
 work quietly, speaking but little and then in 
 subdued tones as in the presence of death; 
 over us all hung the pall of terrifying uncer- 
 tainty. 
 
 When occasionally it was possible to catch 
 a glimpse of the corrals or the blacksmith 
 shop I knew that the wind must be abating 
 and time after time I knocked the snow from 
 the windows and stood straining my eyes 
 into that misty, vague out-of-doors. Ten 
 o'clock, eleven o'clock. Something moved 
 along the edge of the pond, the vague out- 
 lines of some animal, a slight lull in the wind 
 and I could see that it was a horseman, 
 another followed — I caught up a cape, flung 
 open the door, dashed out into the storm 
 through drifts, over every detaining obstacle 
 until I reached the corral and — Owen. 
 
 They were safe, but so weary and worn 
 they could scarcely speak. Their faces were 
 swollen, having been whipped and lashed by 
 the icy particles the wind had driven against 
 them like bits of steel from a mighty blast 
 furnace, their eyebrows and lashes were solid 
 ice, their lips cracked and bleeding. 
 
208 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 After a night of horror, at three in the 
 morning, they had found Dom at the Six 
 Shooter camp comfortably sleeping with the 
 Mexican herder! When the storm began he 
 made no attempt to come back to the ranch, 
 not stopping to think that his non-appearance 
 would cause any anxiety, besides endanger- 
 ing the lives of two men. 
 
 "I was so hot when I seen Dom nice pnd 
 warm all cuddled up there with that Dago I 
 jest drug him out by the collar and shook 
 him. Anybody that'ud sleep with a Mexican 
 had orter freeze to death. Gosh ! Here was 
 Mr. Brook and me amblin' over this whole 
 blamed country, flounderin' through snow 
 drifts as high as this house, gettin' our 
 horses down and most freezin' to death, 
 huntin' a no account thing like that." Bill 
 was himself again. 
 
 Their knowledge of the country and pres- 
 ence of mind had saved them, for once when 
 they found that it had grown warmer and 
 apparently the wind had ceased, they realized 
 that the horses had turned with the wind so 
 that it was at their backs, they forced the 
 
BLIZZARDS 209 
 
 poor things into the face of the bitter gale 
 again and went on. They passed the camp 
 •without seeing it and had gone beyond when 
 the wind brought them the smell of the 
 sheep, they turned back and after searching 
 found the cabin. It was a narrow escape for 
 they were too exhausted to have gone 
 farther. 
 
 A few days later we learned that old John, 
 who had been our mail carrier, had perished 
 in the storm. He had gone out to try to find 
 his cattle and did not return. His wife and 
 little son were alone and when they were able 
 to get out and look for him, they found him 
 just outside the garden fence lying frozen 
 and half eaten by the coyotes. 
 
 I thought much during the following days 
 and finally I came to a conclusion. 
 
 "Owen, if you want to sell out I'm willing — 
 it will have to come some day, I realize that, 
 and besides — there is too much at stake. I 
 don't believe I can ever live through another 
 blizzard." 
 
 In three months all the stock on the ranch 
 
210 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 was sold, a caretaker was placed in charge 
 of the home ranch, which we retained, and 
 we moved to Denver. But instead of selling 
 out to the syndicate, Owen decided to put our 
 lands on the market himself and they were 
 listed for sale. 
 
 It was the end of the old life; we had made 
 way for the settlers. 
 
XIII 
 ECHOES OF THE PAST 
 
 THE curtain of years had fallen and 
 risen again on the same scene, the val- 
 ley which stretched off toward the 
 setting sun and the guardian mountain which 
 stood unchanged at its head. But this was 
 October, the royal season of purple and gold 
 and red, when the asters and sunflowers 
 were blooming their lives away in one lavish 
 outpouring of beauty and the rose bushes 
 were crimson under the kiss of the frost. A 
 shimmering mass of gold clothed the great 
 cotton-woods along the winding course of the 
 creek and hills of russet brown replaced those 
 of vivid green I had first seen sixteen years 
 before. 
 
 Where the young bride had stood on that 
 
 July day, amid the strange surroundings, 
 
 looking with inexperienced eyes unon a new 
 
 world, she stood again, seeing it from the 
 
 211 
 
212 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 angle of a participant, from the viewpoint 
 of a woman, fused by the furnace of exper- 
 ience into a part of that life. 
 
 It was the same scene, but the setting had 
 changed and as a flood of memories swept 
 over me I felt as though I were a reincar- 
 nated spirit, walking the earth in a third 
 phase of existence, having passed through 
 the first, a light-hearted girl among family 
 and friends in urban surroundings, having 
 lived through the second, an atom in the 
 midst of those vast wind-swept plains 
 amongst elemental conditions, a part in the 
 great primitive struggle for existence and 
 coming back again to find the prairies trans- 
 formed by cultivation into farms, with the 
 crops covering the hills and bottom lands 
 like a huge patch-work quilt of green, brown 
 and brilliant yellow, fastened together with 
 black threads of barbed wire. 
 
 Above on the hill stood a church and a 
 school-house, those certain indications of 
 community life. Across the meadows great 
 red bams and towering wind mills over- 
 shadowed the less pretentious houses. 
 
ECHOES OF THE PAST 213 
 
 Bridges spanned the creek with its shifting, 
 treacherous sand and in place of the dim 
 winding trails across the prairie, neatly 
 fenced county roads decorously followed the 
 section lines. 
 
 It was the same — yet everything was 
 changed. This well-ordered farming com- 
 munity seemed prosaic, it lacked the romance 
 and charm of the old ranch life and the 
 glorious sense of unlimited freedom. 
 
 The bunkhouse was occupied by the family 
 of a hard-working farmer who had married 
 the daughter of our caretaker, Parker; trac- 
 tors, ploughs and harrows filled the space 
 about the blacksmith shop. I resented those 
 unfamiliar implements and the prosperous 
 farms. On all sides there was heard a 
 strange language of silos, separators and 
 "crop rotation". I had become a part of the 
 old life, but here I felt restricted and out of 
 place — an alien. 
 
 Inside the house all, too, was changed. 
 The books which Joe had scorned, the crystal 
 clock and our Lares and Penates were in our 
 Denver home, but on the ranch I missed Ihem 
 
214 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 and most of all the old familiar faces. All 
 had gone. Several of the boys had stayed in 
 the country, married and taken up farming, 
 raising bounteous crops and numerous chil- 
 dren. Some, individual and picturesque to 
 the end, had crossed the Great Divide, others 
 had sought new positions in Wyoming, the 
 last of the frontier states. Bill was there 
 cooking in an oil camp. We received charac- 
 teristic, though infrequent, letters from him, 
 usually in the early summer, labored epistles 
 over which he had "sworn and sweat," as he 
 expressed it, which began by assuring us that 
 he was well and hoped that we were the same 
 and ended by an earnest request to go with 
 us as cook "in case you was thinkin' of goin' 
 campin'." He went with us when we did go, 
 the same old Bill, unchanged in heart or 
 humor. 
 
 Old Bohm was dead. The final act of that 
 great tragedy took place in an isolated mine 
 where he had sunk all his fortune in a 
 golden prospect. Hoping to regain it, the 
 fortune he held in trust for a friend had fol- 
 lowed, but the game he had played so sue- 
 
ECHOES OF THE PAST 215 
 
 cessfully before failed when Nemesis took a 
 hand. His friend went to the mine to demand 
 an accounting and several hours later Bohm's 
 body, broken and bleeding, was taken from 
 the depths of the mine. According to the 
 story of his companion, the only witness, he 
 had slipped and fallen to the bottom of the 
 shaft — and his death, as his life, remained 
 an enigma. 
 
 But down through the long years the 
 echoes of the past reverberated. Again 
 and again we heard them, sometimes very 
 faintly, then with perfect distinctness and on 
 that day of our return after a long absence 
 we felt again that mysterious suggestion of 
 tragedy and the echoes were startlingly clear. 
 
 As I came in from my walk just before 
 supper, a strange man rode up and Mr. Par- 
 ker asked him to stop. 
 
 He told us his name and during the prog- 
 ress of the meal took little part in the con- 
 versation, but after he had eaten his supper 
 he leaned back in his chair and in response 
 to Owen's question, said: 
 
 "No, I ain't exactly a stranger round here, 
 
216 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 but this old kitchen is about the only thing 
 that ain't changed. I used to know every 
 inch of ground in this country when I was 
 punchin' cows for the Three Circle outfit. 
 This was the only ranch within twenty-five 
 miles. I've et here lots of times." 
 
 "You knew the Bohms then?" I asked, 
 trying as always to find the answer to the 
 riddle of old Bohm's personality. 
 
 "Sure, I knew the Bohms," the stranger 
 replied, his clear blue eyes meeting mine 
 frankly. "I knowed everybody there was in 
 the country, there wasn't many in them 
 days, jest the Bohms, the Mortons, the Bos- 
 mans and the La Montes. They're most all 
 gone now except Bosman. I heered old La 
 Monte died last winter — but Lord, he's been 
 worse 'en dead for most twenty years. Did 
 you folks know him?" 
 
 "Scarcely, we only saw him once," and be- 
 fore me rose the picture of the desolate old 
 place, the slowly opened door and that living 
 ghost on the threshold. 
 
 The stranger again spoke. 
 
 "You folks bought from Bohm, so you 
 knowed him, didn't you ?" 
 
ECHOES OF THE PAST 217 
 
 "Oh, yes, we knew him." Owen answered 
 for my thoughts were far away. 
 
 "Well, sir," said the old cow-puncher, 
 reaching for a toothpick, "Jim Bohm was a 
 great one, he was the slickest man in this 
 country. He didn't have nothin' but a little 
 band of horses that he drove up from Texas 
 when he came, but he kept gettin' richer all 
 the time." I came back to the present with 
 a start, his words were almost the same Mrs. 
 Morton had used sixteen years before. 
 
 "Wasn't he honest?" I asked, wondering 
 what the reply would be. 
 
 He did not answer for a moment. 
 
 "Well, I can't say as to that. I jest knowed 
 him from meetin' him on the round-ups and 
 when I stopped here. I never had no dealin's 
 with him, but he sure had a reputation for 
 all the meanness there was, and I guess he 
 deserved it. He was good company though, 
 and Lord, how he could play the fiddle." He 
 was interrupted by a sudden clatter. Mrs. 
 Parker had dropped her spoon and was look- 
 ing at him as if fascinated. "I liked Mrs. 
 Bohm, but I never had no use for him. I 
 don't know about the other things, but he 
 
218 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 sure done Jean La Monte dirt." He rose 
 from the table and walked toward the door. 
 "Well, I reckon I'd better be movin' on, I 
 want to get to Bosnian's tonight." He looked 
 up the valley, "I can see Bohm now, ridin' 
 that big black horse of his, carryin' a little 
 cotton-wood switch for a whip, and laughin* 
 at everything, he was a queer one, sure 
 enough. Well, so long — ^thank you for my 
 supper," and he went out into the evening. 
 
 "Big black horse! He was always on a 
 big black horse!" That pitiful refrain of 
 Jean La Monte as he had sought the rider 
 of that horse through all those weary years. 
 Again I saw the men waiting in the wagon 
 and that poor half-clad figure stooping to 
 pick up a little cotton-wood switch, and I 
 wondered if across the great divide LaMonte 
 had caught up with Bohm at last. 
 
 Owen was busy in the office making out 
 contracts for recently purchased land. Mr. 
 Parker and an agent were entertaining some 
 land-buyers, scraps of their conversation 
 "bushels to the acre" and "back in Kansas" 
 
ECHOES OF THE PAST 219 
 
 reached me from time to time as I walked up 
 and down under the stars. 
 
 "Where are you, childy?" Dear Mrs. Par- 
 ker was always concerned when I was not in 
 sight. "Out there alone?" she asked as she 
 came across the yard to join me. We sat 
 down on the bunk-house steps, glorying in 
 the beauty of the night. We were silent for 
 a few moments and then she spoke. 
 
 "Do you know, Mrs. Brook, him talkin' 
 about Mr. Bohm tonight at supper has made 
 me think of so many things. I never paid 
 much attention to all them stories old Mrs. 
 Morton and other folks told, but some mighty 
 queer things have happened since we've been 
 here." 
 
 "What kind of things ?" I asked, wondering 
 if she, too, had breathed the air of mystery 
 which surrounded the old ranch. 
 
 "Well, I don't know exactly," she hesitated, 
 "you'll think I'm silly, perhaps, but you know 
 sometimes when I'm down there," she pointed 
 to the house among the trees, "makin' out 
 my postal reports, sometimes it's eleven or 
 twelve o'clock before I'm through. It's awful 
 
220 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 quiet after everyone's gone to sleep and I've 
 heard all kinds of queer sounds, maybe they 
 might be rats or the wind, but often and 
 often, just as plain as I can hear your voice 
 now, I've heard the sound of a violin like 
 somebody was playin'. It give me an awful 
 start when that man spoke of Bohm's havin' 
 played the violin," 
 
 "Perhaps somebody is playing," I ven- 
 tured, with a well remembered sensation of 
 ice in the region of my spine. "The houses 
 aren't far away now; you could easily hear 
 someone playing if the wind was in the 
 right direction." 
 
 Mrs. Parker shook her head. 
 
 "No, that ain't it. There ain't a violin in 
 the country, and, besides, it's too near; it's 
 like it came from here" — Mrs. Parker looked 
 up at the bunkhouse door — "and none of 
 Ethel's plays." 
 
 I said nothing. I remembered too well 
 hearing the strains of the violin as they used 
 to float out through the silent night while 
 old Bohm played to himself up there in the 
 bunkhouse, hour after hour. I was troubled as 
 the echoes of the past grew louder. 
 
ECHOES OF THE PAST 221 
 
 "And then," Mrs. Parker resumed, "there 
 was that passage, I told you about that, 
 didn't I?" 
 
 "No. Passage! What passage ?" I turned 
 to her in the moonlight which showed a 
 puzzled frown between her eyes. 
 
 "Why, the passage old Dad Patten found. 
 I thought I'd told you about that, but maybe 
 it was the year that you and Mr. Brook was 
 away." She paused a moment. "The third 
 year after Ethel and John came here, John, 
 he raised such a big crop of potatoes the 
 cellar was plumb full, so he had Dad tear 
 out some of the old bins under the bunk 
 house to make some larger ones. Tom Lane 
 was helpin' him, and, of course, Tom was 
 drunk. They'd tore out one or two, but 
 when they come to the third, they found a 
 deep hole behind it about four foot square. 
 They stuck a spade into it, but it seemed to 
 go back so far Dad he thought he'd investi- 
 gate, so he begun to crawl into it to see how 
 far it went. He was well in when Tom 
 begun to laugh and act like he was goin' to 
 wall him up, so Dad backed out, for he said 
 that he was afraid Tom was just drunk 
 
222 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 enough to do it. Dad said, though, that he 
 went in the whole length of his body and 
 stretched his arm out as far as he could, but 
 didn't touch nothin', so he knew it went on 
 further, and he said that it seemed to lead 
 off in the direction of the old root cellar." 
 
 "Root cellar," I repeated, too perturbed to 
 say anything else. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Parker, "but, you know, 
 Dad, he'd never heard any of them stories 
 about the root cellar; Dad's too deaf to hear 
 anything, so he didn't think nothin' about it 
 except that it was some kind of an old dug- 
 out, and they went on and built the new 
 bins, and about two months after John had 
 got all his potatoes in Dad happened to say 
 something about it. I was so beat I like to 
 died, and when I told Dad what folks said 
 about the old root cellar and Bohm, he 
 turned as white as a sheet. You couldn't 
 get him up to the bunk house now if you 
 was to drag him." 
 
 "You don't believe " I began, then 
 
 stopped as Mrs. Parker rose and put her 
 hand on my shoulder. 
 
 "Childy, I don't know whether I believe 
 
ECHOES OF THE PAST 223 
 
 them tales or not. I've scarcely been oflf 
 this place since you went away ten years ago 
 and I've seen and heard some mighty 
 strange things. There's lots of things in 
 life we can't explain — ^we just have to accept 
 'em, and that's the way I've had to do 
 here. Maybe there's spirits and maybe 
 there ain't, but there's some facts there's no 
 gettin' "round" — ^Mrs. Morton's very words 
 again — "but Dad's findin' that passage sure 
 made me believe 'em more than I ever did 
 before, and I do believe that some terrible 
 things have been done right here on this 
 dear old place, and that somewhere old 
 Bohm's spirit's mighty restless." 
 
 Owen and I sat up before the fire talking 
 until late that night, for one of the buyers 
 wanted the home place. It was hard to give 
 it up, for we both loved it, but the old life 
 had passed, and we were not a part of the 
 new. Owen's business kept him almost 
 constantly in Denver, and we were at the 
 ranch so little it seemed useless to cling to 
 it longer. The most diflScult decision had 
 been made ten years before. This, in a way, 
 
224 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 was more simple, yet this was final; it 
 meant the breaking of the last tie which 
 bound us to those broad acres, and we were 
 both silent a long time after we had agreed 
 that it was best to let the old place go. 
 
 Suddenly I thought of my conversation 
 with Mrs. Parker, and told Owen of the find- 
 ing of the passage under the bunk house. 
 He sat looking into the fire, and made no 
 comment until I had finished. 
 
 "It is strange, to say the least. I don't 
 suppose we shall ever know the real truth 
 about it, but it doesn't make much difference 
 now; and if old Bohm's spirit is wandering 
 about here it will feel a little out of place in 
 a cornfield." 
 
 "It certainly will, but, Owen, don't you 
 hope 'it's mighty restless somewhere'?" 
 
 "Indeed I do," he laughed, and then grew 
 serious again. "It's been wonderful from 
 first to last, our life here." He sighed a 
 little. "What experiences we've had!" 
 
 "Yes, it has," I said, getting up and stand- 
 ing by the fireplace, where Owen joined me. 
 "It hasn't always been easy, but I wouldn't 
 
ECHOES OF THE PAST 225 
 
 take anything for the things I've learned. 
 I'm not the 'Tenderfoot' you brought out 
 sixteen years ago; I'm a dyed-in-the-wool 
 Westerner now. My whole view of life has 
 changed. It has not only been a wonderful 
 experience, Owen, but a wonderful privilege 
 — ^to have lived here." 
 
 Without a word we watched the last log 
 break apart. The glowing sparks lighted 
 the room for a single instant, then died 
 down, and in the fading light of the coals 
 we turned away. 
 
 That night I lay awake. Vivified by the 
 thought of the final parting which was to 
 come, our whole life on the ranch passed in 
 review before me, the problems and the 
 difiSculties, the adjustments, the changed 
 conditions and that disturbing sense of un- 
 solved mystery. 
 
 I got up and stood by the window looking 
 out upon a world of silver. Myriads of 
 stars shone faintly in the heavens dimmed by 
 the glory of the moon, the pale outline of 
 the mountain was just visible, and, as on 
 that first day when my heart was so heavy. 
 
226 A TENDERFOOT BRIDE 
 
 I felt the sense of confusion give way to 
 peace. 
 
 From the vast spaces, under the guardian- 
 ship of that commanding summit, we had 
 gained a new sense of proportion, freedom 
 from hampering trivialities and a broader 
 vision of life and its responsibiUties. 
 
 Standing there in the moonlight facing 
 the mountain, I saw in it more than a 
 symbol and source of strength ; to me it had 
 become indeed the abiding place of a God, 
 
 Looking back over the years, all the 
 changes revealed only the evolution of a 
 wondrous plan. We had launched our frail 
 barque in the midst of the prairie sea at 
 the ebb of the tide of the wild, lawless days 
 of the West; with the flow we had been 
 carried through the years of a well-ordered 
 pastoral existence to the era of agricultural 
 productivity, and on each succeeding wave 
 we had seen civilization borne higher and 
 higher toward the ultimate goal set by the 
 Great Spirit. 
 
 Ours had been, indeed, a wonderful 
 experience. 
 
 THE END. 
 
',i\ iii!i 
 
 ■ m