The Decatur News (Decatur, Tex.), Vol. 42, No. 3, Ed. 1 Thursday, May 24, 1923 Page: 3 of 8
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tenacious
"How He Must Love His Horst!”
Tiie Don has
wantin’ to
and
tier
ear.
wind.
go, too. ,
IttT. .
•nr*
Aad then she gave up trying to
pered to Madeline,
that it was a great, grim, immutable
earth; that time was eternity; that
life was fleeting. They whispered for
her to be a woman; to love someone
before It was too late; to love any-
one, everyone; to realize the need of
work, and thus find happiness.
She rode back across the mesa and
down the trail, and, once more upon
the flat, she called to the horse and
made him run. His spirit seemed to
race with hers. The wind of his speed
blew her hair from Its fastenings.
When he thundered to a halt at the
porch steps Madeline, breathless and
disheveled, alighted with the mass of
her hair tumbling around her.
Alfred met her, and his exclamation,
and Florence** rapt eyes shining on
her face, and Stillwell’s speechless-
ness made her self-conscious. Laugh-
ing, she tried to put up the mass of
heir.
“My hab~-and my combs—went to
the wind. I thought—my hair would
. . There is the evening
. . I think I am very hun-
I think, that Mr. Stewart named him
after me—saw my nickname in the
New York paper?”
"Yes.”
"Well, I will not change his name.
But, Al, how shall I ever climb up on
him? He’s taller than I am. What
a giant of a horse! Oh, look at him—
he’s nosing my hand. I really believe
he understood what I said. . Al, did
you ever see such a splendid head and
such beautiful eyes? They are so
large and dark and soft—and human.
Oh, I am a fickle woman, for I am
forgetting White Stockings."
“HI gamble he’ll make you forget
any other horse,” said Alfred. "You’ll
hare to get <jn him from the porch.”
Madeline ted the horse to and fro,
and was delighted with his gentleness.
She discovered that he did not need
to be led. He came at her call, fol-
lowed her like a pot dog, rubbod his
into the valley,
there wouldn't set on a happier
In the world than Bill Stillwell,
of the old cattlemen.”
Madeline thanked the rancher,
then rather abruptly retired to
room, where she felt no restraint to
hide the force of that wonderful idea,
now full-grown and tenacious and
alluring.
Upon the next day, late in the after-
noon, she asked Alfred if it would be
safe for her to ride out to the mesa.
"I’ll go with you,” he said gayly.
"Dear fellow, I want to go alone,”
she replied.
"Ah I” Alfred exclaimed, suddenly
serious. He gave her Just a quick
glance, then turned away. "Go ahead.
I think it’s safe. I’ll make it safe by
sitting here with my glass and keep-
ing an eye on you. Be careful coming
down the trail. Let the horse pick
his way. That’s all.”
She rode Majesty across the wide
flat, up the zigzag trail, across the
beautiful grassy level to the far rim
of the mesa, and not till then did she
lift her eyes to face the southwest.
In that darkening desert there was
something illimitable. Madeline saw
the hollow of a stupendous hand; she
felt a mighty hold upon her heart. Out
of the endless space, out of silence
and desolation and mystery and age,
came slow-changing colored shadows,
phantoms of peace, and they whis-
They whispered
black muzzle against her. . Sometimes,
at the turns In their walk, he lifted
his head and with ears forward looked
up the trail by which he had come,
and beyond the foothills. He was
looking over the range. Someone was
calling to him, perhaps, from beyond
the mountains. Madeline liked him
the better for that memory, and pitied
the wayward cowboy who had parted
with his only possession for verjr
love of It.
At supper-time Madeline was unusu-
ally thoughtful. Later, when they as-
sembled on the porch to watch the
sunset, Stillwell’s humorous com-
plainings Inspired the inception of an
Idea which flashed up In her mind
swift as lightning. And then by lis-
tening sympathetically she encouraged
him to recite the troubles of a poor
cattleman. They were many and long
and interesting, and rather numbing
to the life of her Inspired idea.
"Mr. Stillwell, could ranching here
on a large scale, with up-to-date meth-
ods, be made—well, not profitable, ex-
actly, but to pay—to run without
loss?" she asked, determined to kill
her new-born Idea at birth or else give
It breath and hope of life.
“Wai, I reckon it could," he replied,
with a short laugh. "It'd sure be a
money-maker. Why, with all my bad
luck an' poor equipment I’ve lived
pretty well an’ paid my debts an’
haven’t lost any money except the
original outlay. I reckon thet’s sunk
fer good.”
“Would you sell—if someone would
pay your price?"
"Miss Majesty, I'd Jump at the
chance. Yet somehow I’d hate to
leave hyar., I'd jest be fool enough to
go sink the money in another ranch.”
"Would Don Carlos and these other
Mexicans sell?"
“They sure would,
been after me fer years,
sell thet old rancho of his; an’ these
herders In the valley with their stray
cattle, they’d fall dald at sight of a
little money.”
"Please tell me, Mr. Stillwell, ex-
actly what you would do here if you
had unlimited means?" went on Made-
line.
"Good Lud!” ejaculated the rancher.
"Wall, Miss Majesty, it jest makes my
old heart warm up to think of such
a thing. I dreamed a lot when I first
come hyar. What would I do if I
hed unlimited money? Listen. I’d
buy out Don Carlos an' the Greasers.
I’d give a job to every good cowman
in this country. I’d make them pros-
per as I prospered myself. I’d buy
all the good horses on the ranges. I’d
fence twenty thousand acres of the
best grazin’. I’d drill fer water in the
valley. I’d pipe water down from the
mountains. I’d dam up that draw out
there. A mile-long dam from hill to
hill would give me a big lake, an'
hevln’ an eye fer beauty, I’d plant cot-
tonwoods around It. I’d fill that lake
full of fish. I’d put In the biggest field
of alfalfa In the Southwest. I’d plant
frult-treew an’ gRnlen. rd tear down
them old corrals an’ barns an’ bunk-
houses to build new ones. I’d make
this old rancho some comfortable an’
fine. I’d put in grass an’ flowers all
around an’ bring young pine trees
down from the mountains. An’ when
all thet was done I’d sit tn my chair
an' smoke an’ watch the cattle string-
In* In fer water an' stragglin’ hack
An’ thet red sun out
man
last
deotly bo bod boo* carefully dressed
down for this occasion, for there was
no dust on him, nor a kink In his beau-
tiful mane, nor a mark on his glossy
bide.
“Come hyar, you son-of-a gun," said
Stillwell.
The horse dropped his head, snorted,
and came obediently up. He was nei-
ther shy nor wild. Unhooking the stir-
rups from the pommel, Stillwell let
them fall and began to search the sad-
dle for something which he evidently
expected to find. Presently from some
where among the trapidngs he pro-*
duced a folded bit of paper, and after
scrutinizing It handed It to Al.
“Addressed to you; an’ I’ll bet you
two bits I know what’s in It," he said.
Alfred unfolded the letter, read It,
and then looked at Stillwell.
"Bill, you’re a pretty good guesser.
Gene’s made for the border. He sent
the horse by somebody, no names men-
tioned, and wants my sister to have
him If she will accept.”
"Any mention of Danny Mains?”
asked the rancher.
“Not a word.”
“Thet’s bad. Gene'd know about
Danny if anybody did. But he’s a
close-mouthed cuss. So he’s sure htt-
tln’ for Mexico. Wonder If Danny’s
goln’, too? Wai, there's two of the
best cowmen I ever seen, gone to h—1,
an’ I'm sorry.”
With that he bowed his head and,
grumbling to himself, went into the
house. Alfred lifted the reins over
the head of the horse and, leading him
to Madeline, slipped the knot over her
firm and jdace<r the letter in her hand.
“Majesty, I’y accept the horse,” he
said. "Stewart is only a cowboy now,
and as tough as any I’ve known. But
he comes of a good family. He was a
college man and a gentleman once. He
went to the bad out here, like so many
fellows go, like I nearly did. Then
he had told me about his sister and
mother. He cared a good deal for
them. I think he has been a source of
unhappiness to them. It was mostly
when he was reminded of this in some
way that he’d get drunk. I have al-
ways stuck to him, and I would do so
yet If I had a chance. You read the
letter, sister, and accept the horse.”
In silence Madeline bent her gaze
from her brother’s face to the letter:
“Friend Al: I’m sending my horse
down to you because I'm going away
and haven’t the nerve to take him
where he’d get hurt or fall into
strange hands.
"If you think it’s all right, why, give
him to your sister with my respects.
But if you don’t like the idea, Al, or
if she won’t hare him, then he’s for
you. I’m hoping your sister will take
him. She'll be good to him, and she
can afford to take care of him. And,
while I'm waiting to be plugged by a
Greaser bullet, if I happen to have
a picture in mind of how she'll look
upon my horse, why, man, it’s not
going to make any difference to you.
She needn’t ever know it.
"Between you and me, Al, don't let
her or Flo ride alone over Don Carlos’
way. If I had time I could tell you
something about that slick Greaser.
And tell your sister, if there’s ever
any reason for her to run away from
anybody when she’s up on that- roan.
Just let her lean over and yell in his
She’ll find herself riding the
So long.
“GENE STEWART.”
Madeline thoughtfully folded the
letter and murmured, “How he must
love his horse!”
“Well, I should say so," replied Al-
fred. “Flo will tell you. She’s the
only person Gene ever let ride that
horse. Well, sister mine, how about
it—will you accept the horse?”
“Assuredly. And very happy In-
deed am I to get him. Al, you said,
Bnt they
Flo,
“Don Carlos has been after Flor-
ence for a long time,” said Alfred.
“He’s not a young man by any means.
He's fifty, Bill says; but you can sel-
dom teh a Mexican’s age from his
looks. Don Carlos is well educated
and a man we know very little about.
Mexicans of his stamp don’t regard
women as we white men do. Now,
my dear, beautiful sister from New
York, I haven’t much use for Don Car-
los ; but I don't want Nels or Ambrose
to make a wild throw with a rope and
pull the Don off his horse. So you hud
better ride up to the house and stay
there."
“Alfred, you are joking, teasing me,”
said Madeline.
£°L” replied Alfred. “How
about it, Flo*’
Florence replied that the cowboys
would upon the slightest provocation
treat Don Carlos with less ceremony
and gentleness than a roped steer. Old
Bill Stillwell came up to be importuned
by Alfred regarding the conduct of
cowboys on occasion, and he not only
corroborated the assertion, but added
emphasis and evidence'of his own.
“An’, Miss Majesty,” he concluded,
"I reckon if Gene Stewart was ridin’
fer me, thet grlnnln’ Greaser would
hev hed a bump in the dust before
now.”
Madeline had been wavering between
sobriety and laughter until Stillwell’s
mention of his ideal of cowboy chiv-
alry decided in favor of the laughter.
"I am not convinced, but I surren-
der,” she said. "You have only some
occult motive for driving me away. I
am sure that handsome Don Carlos is
being unjustly suspected. But. as I
have seen a little of cowboys’ singular
imagination and gallantry, I am rather
Inclined to fear their possibilities. So
good-by."
Then she rode with Florence up the
long, gray slope to the ranch-house.
That night she suffered from excessive
weariness, which she attributed more
to the strange working of her mind
than to riding and sitting her horse.
Morning, however, found her in no dis-
position to rest. It was not activity
that she craved, or excitement, or
-pleasure. An unerring Instinct, rising
clear from the thronging sensations of
the last few days, told her that she
had missed something In life. What-
ever this something was, she had baf-
fling Intimations of it, hopes that faded
on the verge of realizations, haunting
promises that were unfulfilled. What-
ever It was, it had remained hidden
and unknown at home, and here In the
West it began to allure and drive her
to discovery. Therefore she could not
rest; she wanted to go and see; she
was no longer chasing phantoms; it
was a hunt for treasure that held
aloof, as intangible as the substance of
dreams.
Upon the morning after the end of
the round-up, when she went out on
the porch, her brother and Stillwell
appeared to be arguing about the iden-
tity of a horse. *
“Wai, I reckon tt*s my old roan,”
said Stillwell, shading his eyes with
his hand.
“Bill, if that isn’t Stewart’s horse
my eyes are going back on me,” replied
Al. “It's not the color or shape—thb
distance is too far to Judge by that.
It’s the motion—the swing.”
“Al, mebbe you’re right,
ain’t no rider up on thet boss,
fetch my glass."
Florence went into the house, while
Madeline tried to discover the object
of attention. Presently far up the gray
hollow along a foothill she saw dust,
and then the dark, moving figure of a
horse. She was watching when Flor-
ence returned with the glass. Bill
took a long look, adjusted the glasses
carefully, and tried again.
“Wai, I hate to admit my eyes are
gettln’ pore. But I guess I’ll hev to.
Thet’s Gene Stewart’s hoss, saddled,
an’ cornin’ at a fast clip without a
rider. It’s amazin’ strange, an’ some
In keepin’ with other things concernin’
Gene.”
"Give me the glass,”j?aid Al. “Yes,
I was right. Bill, the horse is not
frightened. He’s coming steadily; he’s
got something on his mind.”
The wide hollow sloping up into the
foothills lay open to unobstructed
view, and less than half a mile distant
Madeline saw the riderless horse com-
ing along the white trail at a rapid
canter. A shrill, piercing whistle pealed
in.
“Wai, he’s seen us, thet’s sure,” said
Bill. -
The horse neared the corrals, disap-
peared into a lane, and then, breaking
his gait again, thundered into the In-
closure and pounded to a halt some
twenty yards from where Stillwell
waited for him.
One look at him at elobe range in
the dear light of day wag enough for
Madeline to award him a blue ribbon
over all horses, even the prize-winner,
White stockings- The cowboys great
steed was no lithe, slender-bodied mns-
stnng. He was a charger, almost tre-
mendous of build, with a black coat
faintly mottled in gray, and it shone
like polished glut in tfce gun. Hrt-
THE DECATUR NEWS
GENE’S HORSE
CHAPTER V.—Continued.
i
CHAPTER VI
The bawling and bellowing, the
crackling of horns and pounding of
hoofs, the dusty whirl of cattle, and
the flying cowboys disconcerted Made-
line and frightened her a little.
“Look, Miss Hammond, there's Don
Carlos’" said Florence. "Look at that
black horse!”
Madeline saw a dark-faced Mexican
riding by. He was too far away for
her to distinguish his features, but he
reminded her of an Italian brigand.
He bestrode a magnificent horse.
Stillwell rode up to the girls then
and greeted them in his big voice.
“Right in the thick of it, hey? Wai,
thet’s sure fine. I’m glad to see, Miss
Majesty, thet you ain’t afraid of a
little dust or smell of burnin* hide an*
hair." •
Madeline’s brother Joined the group,
> evidently in search of Stillwell. “Bill,
Nels Just rode In," be said.
“Good! Any news of Danny Mains?”
“No. Nels said he lost the trail
when he got on hard ground.”
“Wai, wal. Say, Al, your sister is
sure takin’ to the round-up. An’ the
boys are gettln’ wise. See thet sun-
of-a-gun Ambrose cuttln’ capers all
around. He’ll sure do his prettiest.
Ambrose is a ladles* man, he thinks.”
The two men and Florence joined
in a little pleasant teasing of Made-
line, and drew her attention to what
appeared to be really unnecessary feats
of horsemanship all made in her vi-
cinity. The cowboys evinced their in-
terest in covert glances whjle recoiling
a lasso or while passing to and fro.
It was all too serious for Madeline to
be amused at that moment. She did
not cufe to talk. She sat her horse
and watched.
/>•
A Gift and a Purchase.
For a week the scene of the round-
bp lay within riding-distance of the
ranch-house, and Madeline passed most
of this time in the saddle, watching
the strenuous labors of the vaqueros
and cowboys. t She overestimated her
strength, and more than onoe had to
be lifted from her horse. Stillwell’s
pleasure in her attendance gave place
to concern. He tried to persuade her
to stay away from the round-up, and
Florence grew even more solicitous.
Madeline, however, was not moved
by their entreaties.
She grasped only dimly the truth
of what it was. she was learning—
something Infinitely more than the
rounding up of cattle by cowboys, and
she was loath to lose an hour of her
opportunity.
Before the week was out, however,
Alfred found occasion to tell her that
It would be wiser for her to let the
round-up go without gracing It further
with her presence. He said it laugh-
ingly; nevertheless, he was serious.
And when Madeline turned to him in
surprise be said, bluntly:
“I don’t like the way Don Carlos
follOWs yon around. Bill’s afraid- that
Kelt or Ambrose or oqe of the cow-
boys will take a fall out of the Mexi-
can. They’re itching for the chance.
Of course, dear, It’s absurd to you, but
It’s true."
Absurd it certainly was, yet it served
to show Madeline how Intensely occu-
pied she bad been with hbr own feel-
ings, roused by the tumult and toll of
the round-up. She recalled that Don
Carlos bad been presented to her, and
that she had not liked his dark, strik-
ing face with its bold, prominent, glit-
tering eyes and sinister lines; and she
bad not Mksd bls suave, sweet, tnBn-
uatlng vefce or bis subtle meaner, with
SYNOPSIS.—Arriving at the lone-
ly little railroad etatlon of El Cajon,
New Mexico. Madeline Hammond,
New York society girl, finds no one
to meet her. While tn the waiting
room, a drunken cowboy enters,
aaks if she Is married, and departs,
leaving her terrifled. He returns
with a priest, who goes through
some sort of ceremony, and the
cowboy forces her to eay “81.”
Asking her name and learning her
identity the cowboy seems dazed.
In a shooting scrape outside the
room a Mexican is killed. The cow-
boy lets ? gir^ Baryta, take hts
horse and escape, then conducts
Madeline to Florence Kingsley,
(rifni of her brother. Florence
welcomes her, learns her story, and
dismisses the cowboy, Gene Stew-
art. Next day Alfred Hammond,
Madeline’s brother, takes Stewart
to task. Madeline exonerates him
of any wrong intent. Alfred, scion
of a wealthy family, had been dis-
missed from his home because of
his dissipation. Madeline sees that
the West has redeemed him. She
meets Stillwell, Al's employer, typ-
ical western ranchman. Stillwell
tells her how Stewart beat up the
sheriff to save her from arrest and
then lit out for the border. Danny
Mains, one of Stillwell's cowboys,
has disappeared, with some of Still-
well's money. His friends link his
name with the girl Bonita. Made-
line gets a glimpse of life on a
western ranch.
i
STARS
ARomanee
• \j
■C- -A-
^ WESTERN :
IL
14*-’/iq
■MB*
THE LIGHT OF
» i
A SCORE ARE TRAMPLED
Its
J
from
A
which
x
CHAPTER VII
As the
a
comfort.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
73 DIE WHEN
SCHOOLHOUSE BURNS
$750,000 DAMAGE IN
BEAUMONT FROM RAIN
farm
souls
red
save
■ V ttiajuekiv ntiueu inc TTIUU
Flat, Up the Zigzag Trail, Across the I
Beautiful Grassy Level to the Far
Rim of the Mesa— »
was
may result in death.
hope I have found myself—my work,
my happiness—here under the light
of that western star.”
rains up-
is not ex-
No climate la too wet, too dry, too
hot, or too cold for some kind of
lichens to flourish, •
PLAY OF CHILDREN BECOMES
TRAGEDY IN SOUTH CARO
LINA VILLAGE.
Ship Owners Protest Liquor Rule.
London.—The Foreign Office re-
ceived a pretest from British ship
owners against the recent prohibition .
ruling of the United States Supreme
Court, barring Intoxicating liquors
from American territorial waters, but
It is not likely the protest will be
forwarded to Washington, as re-
quested by the ship men. untn the
American Government indicates the
ewet methods to be takes for e&
forcement of the ruling.
She Rode Majestic Across the Wide
ice
nd
__________._____
«- eave life then, though many bravely
tried again and again to drive them-
selves through the fire far enough
to reach the victims.
All but fourteen of the bodies were
burned beyond recognition.
they were plac-
in Beulah
etone's
ruins
Three
to merchandise in stores
along Pearl street, the main business
thoroughfare, will exceed >500,000.
according to early estimates, and
this sum may be exceeded when the
figures are finally checked up. Many
of these Stores stood from a foot to
eighteen inches in water during the
height of the flood, and as the water
receded, were a mass of mud and
rubbish. All streets of the business
district were flooded, making open-
ing of stores impossible.
Stairway Collapses Throwing
Weight of Humanity Into
. Blazing Furnace.
Beaumont, Texas.—Damage esti-
mated at between >500,000 and >760,-
000 was caused here by a flood re-
sulting from a torrential ruin which
registered 13.54 inches in a precipi-
tation of less than three hours.
It was the heaviest rainfall ever
recorded in Southeast Texas.
So far as has been learned there
only one serious accident which
Henry Franks
sustained what may prove to be fa-
tal burns when he stepped Into a
pool of burning oil incident to the
destruction of a storage tank of the
Magnolia Petroleum Company after
having been struck by lightning. His
condition Is serious.
Motor boats took the places of jit-
neys in some sections of the city.
The Neches river is rising rapidly
as the result of heavy
stream, but flood stage
pected.
Losses
Precipitation 13.54 Inches In Leat
Than Three Hours Recorded.
setting
a large grave
Churchyard,
smoldering
building,
among them Gov.
Carolina, attended
the funeral service.
sun was
ed in
Methodist
throw from the
of the school
thousand persons,
McLeod of South
fasten up her hair, which fell again tn
a golden mass.
“Mr. Stillwell," she began, and
paused, strangely aware of a hurried
note, a deeper ring in her voice. "Mr.
Stillwell, I want to buy your ranch—
to engage you as my superintendent.
I want to buy Don Carlos' ranch and
other property to the extent, say, of
fifty thousand acres. I want you to
buy horses and cattle—in short, to
make all those improvements which
you said you had so long dreamed of.
Then I have ideas of my own. in the
development of which I must have
your advice and Alfred’s. 1 Intend to
better the condition of those poor Mex-*
leans in the valley. I Intend to make
life a little more worth living for
them and for the cowboys of this
range. Tomorrow we shall talk it
all over, plan all the business details."
Madeline turned from the huge,
ever-widening smile that beamed down
upon her and held out her hands to
her brother.
"Alfred, strange, Is it not, my com-
ing out to you? Nay, don't smile.
Cleveland, S. C.—From the dismal
ashes where the Cleveland township
schoolhouse and assembly hall rear-
ed its rickety frame as the pride of
the crossroads, the bodies of sev-
enty-three men, women and children,
burned to death in the disaster which
has stunned the South have been re-
moved for immediate burial.
The grisly objects in the make-
shift morgues of the settlement rep-
resent 16 per cent of the communi-
ty's entire population. They were
buried at once, within a few hours,
in some cases, after recovery
the ruins of the schoolhouse.
Cleveland, a loosely settled
township, comprising only 490
and having no incorporated village
at the last census, put on squeaky
shoes and stand-up collars to make
fete at the children's "theatricals”
in the upstairs hall of the school.
The boisterous antics of the child ac-
tors in a farce called "Topsy-Turvy"
jolted loose a hook in one of the
rafters from which suspended one of
the kerosene lamps. In that dread-
ful instant Cleveland was plunged
from Innocent merriment and homely
pride in its children to tragedy and
horror beyond description.
The lamp struck the pine floor
with a booming explosion
showered liquid fire upon the coun-
try folk in their seats and filled the
room with flames.
There was a rush of blazing,
screaming humanity for the single
stairway.
A few nearest the windows smash-
ed the panes and with their clothing
afire hurled themselves like comets
through the darkness. Two who did
so had their backs broken by the
faR
The first surges down the stairs
sent most of the audience Into the
open air, where they were able to
strip off their things and save them-
selves from anything worse than
severe burns. But with those who
were fartherest from the mouth of
the stairway pressing frenzledly from
behind, it was inevitable that there
would be a jam in the bottle-neck
of the little vestibule at the bottom.
When thia occurred the stairs be-
came overloaded, and, with a crash-
Her Majeaty’a Rancho.
Five months brought all that Still-
well had dreamed of, and so many
more changes and Improvements and
innovations that it was as If a magic
touch had transformed the old ranch.
Madeline and Alfred and Florence
had talked over a fitting name, and
line. But this Instance"wag'-th<^>nl
one in the course of developments in
which Madeline’s wishes were not
complied with. The cowboys named
the new ranch "Her Majesty’s Ran-
cho.” Stillwell said the names cow-
boys bestowed were felicitous, and as
unchangeable as the everlasting hills;
Florence went over to the enemy; and
Alfred, laughing at Madeline's protest,
declared the cowboys hud elected her
queen of the ranges, and that there
was no help for it. So the name stood
"Her Majesjy’s Rancho.”
All that had been left of the old
Spanish house which had been Still-
well’s home for so long was the bare,
massive structure, and some of this
had been cut away for new doors and
windows. Every modern convenience,
even to hot and cold running water
and acetylene light, had been In-
stalled; and the whole interior pulnted
and carpentered and furnished. The
ideal sought had not been luxury, but
Every door Into the patio
looked out upon dark, rich grass and
sweet-faced flowers, and every win-
dow looked down the green slopes.
Madeline Hammond cherished n
fancy that the transformation she had
wrought in the old Spanish house and
in the people with whom she had sur-
rounded herself, great as that trans-
formation had been, was as nothing
compared to the one wrought In her-
self. She had found an object In life.
She had seen her brother through his
difficulties, on the road to all the suc-
cess and prosperity that he cared for.
Madeline had been a conscientious
student of ranching and an apt pupil
of Stillwell. The old cattleman, in his
simplicity, gave her the place In his
heart that was meant for the daugh-
ter he had never had. IBs pride In
her, Madeline thought, was beyond
reason or belief or words to tell.
Under his guidance, sometimes accom-
panied hy Alfred and Florence, Made-
line had ridden the ranges and had-
studied the life and work of the cow-
hoys. Sometimes she looked In her
mirror and laughed Ulfh sheer Joy at
sight of the lithe, audacious, brown-
faced, flashing-eyed creature reflected
there. It was not so much Joy In her
beauty as sheer Joy of life. Eastern
critics had been wont to call her
beautiful In those days when she had
been pale and slender and proud and
cold. She laughed. If they could only
wee her nbw! From the tip of her
golden head to her feet she was alive,
pulsating, on fire
SC
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“Stewart, it’s a
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Tyler, L. W. The Decatur News (Decatur, Tex.), Vol. 42, No. 3, Ed. 1 Thursday, May 24, 1923, newspaper, May 24, 1923; Decatur, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1322641/m1/3/?q=Lamar+University: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; .