Woven with the Ship: A Novel of 1865

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

  IN OKLAHOMA

  AN IDYL OF THE PRAIRIE IN THREE FLIGHTS

  "The sun lay dying in the west, The fresh breeze fanned my brow, I rode the steed I loved the best-- Would I were riding now."

  I.--THE FIRST FLIGHT

  Most written stories end with a wedding, actual or prospective; butthis story, like most stories in real life, begins with one. Thelittle old stone church in Manhattan, Kansas, was crowded to the doorsone June afternoon. The gray-haired President, the younger men andwomen of the faculty, and a small sprinkling of the towns-people werethere; but the great mass of the congregation was made up of thestudents of the State Agricultural College, which was situated on agentle hill just outside the town. It was Graduation Day, and the dayon which Sue Belle Seville and Samuel Maxwell had elected to getmarried.

  Samuel was a Kansas boy, Sue Belle a Kentucky girl. They were bothorphans and both graduates from the college that day in the sameclass: Samuel from the agricultural and mechanical department, SueBelle from the housekeeping, culinary, domestic sciences, and other ofthe many departments feminine. Maxwell was a manly, energetic, capablefellow, a good student, and a young man who, given an equal chance,should make a fine farmer. On that day he was the envy of all theyoung men of marriageable age in the college.

  His bride to be, while she seemed made for better things than theineffably monotonous drudgery of an ordinary farmer's wife, wasnevertheless skilled enough, capable enough, resolute enough, tomaster her lot and be happy in it whatever it might be. She was ahandsome girl, tall, straight, strong, black-haired, blue-eyed, withthe healthiest whiteness in her face that one could imagine.

  The brief wedding ceremony was soon over. Old Dr. Fairman, thePresident, gave the bride away in his usual courtly and distinguishedmanner, and as the village organist played the wedding-march on thesweet-toned old organ, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Maxwell passed out of thechurch, followed by all of the congregation. At the end of the longcinder foot-path extending from the church-door under the double rowof trees to the street stood a brand-new Studebaker wagon filled withhousehold goods. Two stout, well-conditioned horses were harnessed toit, while two others, a good mare and a handsome young horse, athree-year-old colt, were fastened to the tail-board by longhitching-straps. The wagon had been transformed by a canvas canopyover the bed into what was popularly known as a "prairie schooner."The new canvas was white as snow in the sunlight.

  Maxwell handed his wife to the seat on the front, pitched quarters tothe negro boys who had been holding the horses' heads, gathered up thereins, and, amid a storm of cheers and a shower of rice--especiallyappropriate to an agricultural college, by the way--and othermanifestations of joy and delight, drove away on the wedding journey.The watchers followed with their eyes the wagon lumbering slowly downthe main street until it crossed the bridge over the Kansas River anddisappeared among the hills to the southward.

  After settling the expenses of their college course and paying fortheir outfit, the two young people found themselves in possession ofsome two thousand dollars between them; more than enough, theyfancied, backed as it was--or should I say led?--by two stout heartsand by four strong young arms, to wrest a livelihood--nay, a fortune,perhaps--from the prairies of the West.

  An old, old story, this. A pair of home-builders going out into a newland to conquer or die; to establish another outpost of civilizationon the distant frontier, or to fail. A man and a woman who had takentheir all in their hands to consecrate it by their toil to the serviceof humanity, and to stake their happiness on the success of theirendeavor. True builders of the nation, they! Pickets they were, goingahead of the advance guard of the army of civilization's marchers,which, untold ages ago, started in some secluded nook in the farOrient, and, impelled by an irresistible desire for conquest, insuccessive waves of emigration, has at last compassed the globe,rolled around the world. Leaders, these two, of that mighty deluge ofmen and women for whom the sun of hope is ever rising,--but rising inthe West.

  Never was such a wedding journey. It was springtime in the mostbountiful and fertile year that had come to the great State for ageneration. The way of the lovers, as they plodded ever southward andwestward, led them now past vast fields of yellowing wheat alreadybeginning to ripen for the thresher. Sometimes they drove for milesthrough towering walls of broad-bladed, cool, green corn; sometimesthe trail led them over the untilled, treeless prairies covered withtall, nodding sunflowers in all their gorgeous golden bloom,--blossomswhich gave the State a name; and not infrequently their way would takethem alongside a limpid river, in that happy season bank full from thefrequent rains, where the winding road would be overhung by greattrees.

  They stopped at night at the different little towns through whichtheir way passed, and once in a while they enjoyed the hearty welcomeof a lone farm-house. Sometimes they hired a negro boy to drive thewagon from one stopping-place to another, while they mounted the twoled horses and galloped over the prairie. Samuel rode well, but to seeSue Belle on that spirited young steed of hers was to see theperfection of dashing horsemanship. An instinctive judge ofhorse-flesh, she had bought that three-year-old herself. He was achestnut sorrel with a white blaze on his face, and white forefeet, ashandsome and spirited as his mistress. In honor of her native State,she called him Kentucky.

  As they progressed farther and farther southwestward the land becamemore open, the farm-houses were greater distances apart, cultivatedfields less frequent, the towns were fewer in number and diminishingin size, the rivers grew smaller and smaller, and trees almostvanished from the landscape. Finally, away out in Cimarron County,where the railroad stopped and civilization ended, they reached theirjourney's end. Such a wedding-trip they had enjoyed, such a honeymoonthey had spent!

  They bought a bit of flower-decked prairie, a quarter section crossedin one corner by a little creek flowing southward until it joined alarger steam flowing into the Arkansas River. The chosen land mostlylay on the south side of a slight elevation from which they couldsurvey the grass-mantled plains melting into the unbroken horizonmiles and miles away. The country about was entirely uncultivated andhad been mainly given over to cattle-raising; it was a dozen miles tothe nearest house and fifteen to the town of Apache, the county-seat.

  How still was that vast expanse of gently undulating land of whichthey were the centre! An ocean caught in a quiet moment, and everysmoothly rolling wave petrified, motionless. How vast was thefirmament above them! To lie in the grass at night and stare up intoits blue unclouded distance filled with stars--shone they ever sogloriously anywhere else on the globe?--was to reduce one's self to avanishing point in the infinite universe of God. Lonely? Yes, toordinary people, perhaps, but not to these two home-builders. Theywere young, they were together, they were lovers, and they had to doprosaic, God-given labor.

  So they pitched their stakes upon the verdant hill, and, toiling earlyand late, built there for themselves and those to come a home. Withiron share they tore the virgin sod; with generous hands they sowedthe seed; with all the hope of youth and love bourgeoning andblossoming in their breasts, they began the earth-old process ofwresting a living from the tillage of the soil. "In the sweat of thyface shalt thou eat bread." So ran the primal truth. Ah, yes, but thistime counted not a curse but a privilege, and enjoyed not without butwithin an Eden.

  II.--THE SECOND FLIGHT

  Spring-time again upon the farm, and they were bidding it good-by.Five years have dragged away, years filled with little butmisfortune--years of freezing winters, burning summers, drought, orstorm. Five lean years of failure, unprecedented but true. A long,deadly, paralyzing struggle with that terrible minatory face of naturewhich, thank God! is usually turned away from humanity, else we couldnot bear the sight. The sun had beaten upon the farm and burnt it up,the parasites had swarmed over the field and eaten it down, the wintercold had frozen the life out of it, the fierce storms had swept overit and torn it away,--winter and summer had been alike against them.

  Last fall the
deadly mortgage had grown from the little hand-breadthcloud until it had covered the land, blanketed it, blighted it, filledearth and sky to them. It was over. They had toiled for naught, and noprofit had they taken of all their labor under the sun. They werebeaten at last.

  Once more the old Studebaker wagon. Within it a haggard, dogged,disappointed man,--yet indomitable; a woman still young, robbedforever of the brightness of youth, yet striving to nourish a spark ofthe old hope,--a mother, too. Two little children clung to her,healthy, lusty, strong, happy; they had neither known nor suffered.There was the same old team between the "tugs," sobered, quieted,saddened like their master, perhaps, and Kentucky. Kentucky was leanerthan he should be, not so well nourished as they would like to havehim, but his spirit was unabated. He, at least, had not been beatendown.

  So they set forth again. "Once more into the breach," brave pair. Lifeinsistently craves bread. Men must work; ay, and women too, thoughthey may weep as well. There were the little children, oh, father andmother! treasure of health and teaching must be laid up for them. Theold cause must be tried out yet again. Farewell to defeat, farewell tofailure, farewell to the old. Let us stir up hope again, look forwardinto the future, deserve a triumph. All had been lost but love; thathad not failed, and while God is it cannot. It is a mighty talismanwith which to attempt the morrow. So armed, they started out again.

  With one hundred dollars in his pocket, a small lot of householdnecessaries, a stove, some blankets, etc., and Kentucky, SamuelMaxwell and Sue Belle and the two children started out in the wagonagain to have another wrestle with fortune. They determined to go tothe Kansas-Indian Territory border and try to secure free land inOklahoma Territory, which was to be opened for settlement that summer.

  They hated the prairie where they had lived now. It was associatedwith their ruin, eloquent of their future. That season bade fair to beas bountiful a time as had been the year of their arrival, but theycould not stay. They had pulled up the stakes, and nothing was leftfor them but to go on. Indeed, they were wishful to do so, and hadthey known that, as it happened, the five years of starvation,drought, and failure were to be succeeded by twice as many years ofabounding plenty, they would not have stayed. They loathed the spot.They could not have remained anyway. Another man held the farm andsucceeded where they had failed, reaping where they had sown.

  It was late summer when they reached Solomon City, from which they hadelected to make the run into the hitherto forbidden land. The placewas filled with all sorts and conditions of men and women attracted bythe possibility of getting a quarter section or a town lot practicallyfree in the Cherokee strip; there were half a million of them on theborder-line! And there, too, were congregated the human vultures thatlive to prey upon the crowd.

  The distribution of the lots and sections was to be made on theprinciple of first come first served. All seekers for locations wereto line up on the edge of the strip on a given date at a certain hour,and when a signal was given they were to rush into the Nation, drive astake in a quarter section, or in a town lot at the places where thetowns had previously been surveyed and lots plotted and staked out bythe government, throughout the vast body of land in the IndianTerritory thrown open for settlement. Then they were to hold theirplaces, living in tents and shanties, until they could erect housesand prove their claims.

  Samuel intended to ride Kentucky into the strip and take his chance ata town lot. He had had enough of farms. Not many miles below SolomonCity, on the railroad running through the "strip,"--as the land wascalled,--the future town of Newlands had been laid out by thesurveyors. It was a paper town as yet, but the day after the run wouldsee it suddenly become a city, and good lots would probably be ofvalue. If he could get a good one it might be worth several thousanddollars, and he could start again. It was a desperate chance, but hehad to take it; there was nothing else.

  Ill fortune was not yet done with them, however, for in scramblingdown the bank of the river to get water for his team, the unfortunateman fell and broke his arm. He climbed up to the wagon, sank down onthe dry grass beside it, and gave way. Sue Belle stood by with whiteface as the local doctor bound up his arm, but she did not cry. Shefelt that she had other things to do, that she must play the man, andthat she could not indulge in the womanly luxury of weeping.

  "I'm not crying, doctor, because it hurts," said Samuel, brushing awayhis tears with his uninjured arm; "but because this seems to be justthe last straw in our bad luck. We were married five years ago, and webought a farm in Cimarron. I'm a good farmer, I was born on a farm andraised on it, and I was trained in the Agricultural College in Kansas.I know the thing theoretically and practically, too, but everythingfailed us. We've lost everything, and we came here in the hope ofgetting something out of the strip. God's forgot us, I guess."

  The doctor had seen many cases like that in the Southwest, and, thoughhis heart was profoundly touched, he could do nothing.

  That night Samuel lay awake in the wagon almost forgetting the pain inhis arm wondering what would become of them. He had lugged out his oldleather purse and counted the money that was left,--ten dollars! Thatwas all that stood between them and starvation! The strip was to beopened to-morrow, the run would take place then. What, in God's name,could he do?

  "Sam," said Sue Belle, lying awake by his side, "don't give way so!"

  "Give way, dear!" he groaned. "How can I help it? Ten dollars betweenyou and the children and starvation! This town here can't help anyone. These people around us can't Look at them! They're as poor as weare. Five years of crop failure has hit them as hard as it has hit us.The run takes place to-morrow, and I can't ride. I did hope that Icould get a town lot in Newlands. I don't believe that anything herecan outrun Kentucky; but now--oh, my God! my God!"

  "Sam dear, I'll ride Kentucky."

  She spoke resolutely, having thought quickly, and her mind was madeup.

  "We've got no side-saddle," answered the man; "you know we sold it."

  "I can ride astride," said the woman, having covered this point alsoin her mind. "I used to ride that way when I was a girl. I've done ithundreds of times, and I can make better time that way now."

  "But, dear, you're a woman, and----"

  "I can wear your clothes, dear. I'm almost as tall as you are. They'llbe rather large, but----"

  "Oh, Sue Belle, I can't allow you to go in there alone, in all thatcrowd, with----"

  "I've got to do it, Sam! It's our last chance. It's for the children,not ourselves. We could die. We've done our best. But think of them!"

  She rose from her bed and crept over to the back of the wagon wherethe little boy and girl lay sprawling side by side in the dreamlesssleep of childhood. She pushed from the baby brows the curly hairmatted with perspiration, and stooped and kissed them. She felt sostrong, so brave, so resolute, as if the burden which she had hithertoshared with Samuel, or from which he had tried to spare her, hadsuddenly fallen upon her own shoulders, and in some strange way thatshe had been given strength to bear it.

  Long time that night husband and wife talked over the situation. Inthe face of her determination the man could not do otherwise than giveconsent. In the morning, making him as comfortable as she could, sheplodded up through the dust to the city and bought from the wonderingshopkeeper a pair of high boots that fitted her, since it would beimpossible for her to use her husband's huge ones. At Sam's insistentdemand, she also hired for five dollars a poor stranded negro, wholooked honest and faithful, to drive the wagon after her into thestrip. That exhausted their ready money.

  It was half after eleven o'clock when she returned to the wagon. Thedoctor had been there, and had done what he could for her feveredhusband, but his arm still pained fearfully. He was up, however,--hehad to be,--and seated on the dusty grass in the shadow of the canvastop. The children were playing about him. Bidding the negro boy hitchup the team, Sue Belle slipped under the wagon-cover and dropped thecurtain. When she came out her tall form was encased in her husband'sonly remaining suit of clothes.
She wore a soft felt hat with her hairtightly twisted under it. A loose shirt, trousers, and the new bootscompleted her costume. Womanlike, she had tied a blue silkhandkerchief--last treasure-trove from her trousseau--around her neck.There was a painful flush upon her thin face and her eyes were filledwith tears.

  Samuel groaned and shook his head, the negro boy gazed with mouth wideopen, his eyes rolling, and little Sue Belle shrank away from hermother garbed in this strange manner. Kentucky, who had been given thelast measure of oats they possessed, did not recognize her until shespoke, and then he stared at her in a wondering way as she saddled andbridled him. A hatchet and a tent-peg tied securely to the saddlecompleted her preparations. By her husband's insistence she strapped aspur on her boot, although, as she said, she had never put a spur toKentucky in her life.

  "You may have to do it now, dear," said Maxwell, and to please him shecomplied.

  Nobody paid any attention whatever to her, although the boundary waslined, as far as eye could see and for miles beyond, with crowds ofpeople intending to make the run. On the very edge of the strip therunners had assembled on horseback or muleback, on bicycles, inbuggies, sulkies, or in road wagons, and there were many dressed injerseys and running shoes who intended to make the run on foot. Backof them in long lines were grouped wagons of all descriptions, mostlyfilled with women and children. All sorts and conditions of men wererepresented in the huge and motley throng.

  It was a blazing hot day. The shifting horde raised clouds of dustabove the line, from which the bare, treeless prairie stretched awaysouthward for miles. There was not a soul on it except United Statescavalrymen, who were spread out in a long line, each man being placedat a regular interval from his neighbor. To the front of the troopers,the captain in command sat his horse, holding his watch in his lefthand to determine the correct time, while in his right he carried acocked revolver.

  Twelve o'clock was the appointed hour. The soldiers on either sideheld their loaded carbines poised carefully and looked toward thecaptain, or, if too far away to see him, toward the next in line whocould. The signal for the start was to be given simultaneously overthe whole extended strip, stretching for many miles along the Kansasborder, by means of these troopers. No one was to move until thesignal was given. The soldiers had scoured the country for days toevict the "sooners,"--those who had gone in before the appointed timeand attempted to conceal themselves that they might secure the bestlots.

  Sue Belle turned and kissed the babies. Then she bent toward Samuel,but he rose painfully to his feet and stood flushed and feverish whilehe pressed her to his side with his sound arm.

  "May God protect you, dear," he said, trembling with pain andagitation.

  "He will! He will!" exclaimed the woman, fervently, strong in herendeavor. "Now be sure and have the wagon follow right after me. Andyou know the doctor said he'd get you taken in some place in town assoon as the run began; there'll be lots of room there then. I'm goingto ride straight down to Newlands and try for a town lot. They'll findme there. They ought to be there by evening, and I'll manage somehowtill then."

  "But how'll you live till I get there?"

  "I can cook or wash for hire; there'll be lots to do there, and I'llwrite to you at once. Don't worry about me, dear. I'm half crazy tothink of leaving you ill and alone----"

  "I wish you had a revolver, Sue Belle," groaned Samuel.

  "I wish I had, too," answered the woman; "but never mind, we are inGod's hands."

  "Oh, Sue Belle, I can't let you go!"

  "You must! I must go now! See! They're getting ready!"

  She tore herself away from him and spoke to the colored boy.

  "Joe," she said, "for God's sake, don't fail us! I leave you my twolittle children; if you guard them safely and bring them to mefaithfully, whatever good fortune comes to us you shall share."

  "'Deed I will, suh, ma'am, miss,--yes, suh," stammered the coloredboy. "I'll tek good caah on 'em, mista--lady," he added, in hisconfusion.

  III.--THE THIRD FLIGHT

  Without another word the woman sprang on the horse and forced herselfas near the line as she could. She had lost an opportunity of gettingin the very front rank, but she knew her horse and did not care forthat. It wanted perhaps a minute to twelve o'clock, and a silencesettled down over the rude assemblage, although the excitement was atfever heat. Pushing and jostling would gain no advantage now. The grayold captain of cavalry sat his horse, intently gazing at his watch.The seconds dragged and the multitude waited breathlessly. Suddenly heclosed it with a snap, lifted his pistol in the air, and before thesmoke of the discharge blew away a quick volley rang along the line.

  With a sort of a roar that echoed up into the heavens for miles therunners sprang forward. There was one mighty simultaneous surge of menand animals, and then the line began to break. In the cloud of dustthat arose instantly, Maxwell, forgetful of his broken arm, strovevainly to follow with his gaze Sue Belle's flying figure. The nextmoment he noticed that the ground directly in front of him wasdeserted. An idea flashed into his mind. Regardless of his pain, hesprang to his feet, with his uninjured arm tore a loose bed-slat fromthe wagon, and, stepping across the line, thrust it into the finestquarter section of the strip. Nobody had thought of doing this. Theland adjoined the town of Solomon City, and could probably be soldwithout delay for a good sum of money. It was his. They were saved!

  Oh, why hadn't he thought of it before and prevented his wife frommaking the run? But it was too late; she was gone. Calling the negro,he had him take from the wagon a few of the boards which had beenbrought along for the purpose, and nail them together in a tent shapeto make him a shelter. Laying a blanket and a quilt on the ground, andsetting a bucket of water therein, he crawled under it, knowing thatsome one sent by the doctor would certainly come to him during theday, and determined to hold his claim if he died for it. Then he badeJoe load the children in the wagon, take them into the strip, tell hiswife of his good fortune, and bid her come back to him, if she could.

  What of the woman riding on with a broken heart, yet with a grimdetermination somehow to achieve fortune for her sick husband and herchildren? She kept Kentucky well in hand, and yet easily passedbuggies, sulkies, runners, men on bicycles, and began to overtake thehorsemen galloping southward over the prairie. At first the dustalmost choked her. The man's saddle annoyed her, too; but as she gotinto clear air, and began to get accustomed to the strangeness of herposition, she regained her self-control. She shook the reins lightlyover the horse, and he lengthened his stride and quickened his speed,making swift progress for a long time.

  Finally there was no one in front of her. To the right and left, asfar as she could see, horsemen were galloping on; back of her theytrailed in an ever-thinning mass. Most of them she was leavingrapidly. Kentucky was of racing stock. He was three-quarter-bred andgame to the core. The sight of the other horses running by his sideinspired him. He had been ridden in a wild dash across the prairiemany a time, but never before in competition with other horses. Hetook to the race instinctively, and galloped on as if he had beentrained to it from the beginning.

  She had hard work to hold him, yet she knew she had a long ride beforeher, and if she did not keep him well in hand he would be blown beforehe went half the distance; so she held him down to it, riding warily,watching carefully for prairie-dog holes, for if the horse shouldthrust his leg into one he would break it, and that would be the endof him and her ride as well.

  So she galloped on and on, still in the front line, and with everysurging leap leaving some beaten runner behind. Now she drew ahead,now she led the whole vast throng, and now the horse was out of hand.He was running magnificently, but he had gotten away from her, notviciously, but in pure joy at being free in this mad race over theprairie. Presently she looked back. The nearest rider seemed to behalf a mile behind her. It was not necessary for her to get so farahead, and she tried again and again to check the horse, but withoutsuccess.

  Kentucky was running his own race now. How h
e swept through the air!It was magnificent! The exhilaration of the motion got into her blood.It was long since she had had such a ride. She, too, came of racingstock, and the habit of her sires reasserted itself in her being. Fora moment she forgot Samuel, forgot the children. She forgot everythingbut that wide open prairie, the wind blowing across her face, therapid rise and fall of the horse as he raced madly on. Youth came backto her and the joy of life; failure lay behind, success before. Herheart beat faster in her breast. Kentucky gallantly carried herforward. How long had she been riding? She could not tell. They werenot at Newlands yet, she was certain, so she raced away. After a longtime she looked back and was astonished to see two riders nearer toher than any had been when she had looked before; all the rest weremiles behind.

  The men were mounted on broncos,--the horse _par excellence_ of theWest,--wild, vagrant descendants of old Spanish breeds; animalswithout blood, without birth, without beauty, without style, withouttraining, mean and vicious in disposition; utterly useless for a shortdash, and in an ordinary race unable to approach a thoroughbred; butwith a brutal, indomitable spirit, a capacity for unlimited enduranceand tireless ability to run long distances and live on nothing, and doit day after day, which made them formidable and dangerous competitorsfor all other horses of whatsoever quality. They were loping alongafter her with an ugly yet very rapid gait, which they could keep upall day if necessary.

  Sue Belle thought Kentucky's stride was not quite so sweeping as ithad been; he seemed to be a little tired; still, he was doing his bestmanfully. Although he yet held the lead, he was not built for thiskind of a run. She realized it, but there was nothing she could do tohusband his strength, nothing left her but to gallop on. And yet therewas lots of go in him yet. He was by no means done.

  The prairie rolled away back of them as it was compassed by the flyingfeet, and still the mighty ride went on. The first bronco was nearernow. He was not quite a mile away, but the second was a longerdistance behind the first and falling back. The rest were nowhere. Ofall the throng only these three were in sight. Kentucky was verytired. Surely they must be near Newlands now! The other horse wascoming up fast. She shook out the reins and called to her own. Thepursuer was nearer! He was so near that at last Kentucky realized thathe was being pursued. They were almost there! In front of them on thehorizon she saw the land-office, the station, and the hundreds ofwhite stakes marking the lots of the town.

  The other horse was almost beside her now. Well, suppose he did winthe race? There were hundreds of lots there, and the second choicewould probably be as good as the first. Should she let him pass? No!That was not the Kentucky way. Should the horse do it? No, again. Sheleaned forward over the saddle and spoke to him; she drove the spurinto him at last. The surprised horse bounded into the air with asudden access of vigor, and he fairly leaped away from the bronco. Itwas his final effort; when this spurt was ended he would be done for.Would it be enough?

  The surprised horse bounded into the air with a suddenaccess of vigor]

  In her excitement she turned and shouted back to the man, she knew notwhat, waving her hat in disdain. Presently she turned into whatappeared to be the main street. Instinctively as they ran along shechose what seemed to be the best lot in the prospective city, and thenreined in her panting, exhausted horse; she sprang to the ground, torethe peg and hatchet from the saddle-bow, and drove the stake in thelot. Not a moment too soon, with not a second to spare, she had wonthe race! The wild bronco came thundering upon her heels. The manjerked his horse to his haunches by the side of the triumphantthoroughbred, dropped a rein to the ground to keep him, sprang fromthe saddle, and stepped toward her.

  "I want that there lot!" he said, roughly. "It's the best lot in theplace. You kin take somethin' else."

  Sue Belle rose to her feet. Her hat had fallen off in the wild rideand her black hair floated over her shoulders. Excitement had put alight in her eyes, color in her cheeks. She looked handsome, almostyoung again,--altogether beautiful. The man was right. She could seethat she had succeeded in getting the best lot in the city. As shestood up the man stared at her wonderingly. He was a cowboy,--fringedtrousers, bearskin chaparejos, loose shirt, broad hat, Mexican spurs,and all.

  "Good God!" he shouted. "It's a woman!"

  "Yes, I am a woman," answered Sue Belle, desperately.

  "Well, I'm d----d!" he burst out.

  "You've ordered me away from the lot, but----" she went on, heedlessof his interruption.

  "Well, gimme a kiss, sis, an' you kin stay on it," said the man, witha hideous leer.

  Sue Belle looked around desperately. She was practically alone on theprairie save for this man and the other one, now about a mile distant.The station and land-office were too far away for her to summonassistance from them. She was absolutely helpless, entirely in thisman's power.

  "Will you let me alone if I do?" she asked, at last.

  "Oh, come, now, you're too pretty to be left alone, my dear," said theman, coming closer.

  Resisting the impulse to shriek, she faced him hatchet in hand. Withswift feminine instinct she comprehended him in a glance. He was justan ordinary kind of a cowboy, bad when his bad side was uppermost, butcapable of all sorts of nobility and self-sacrifice if his good sidecould be reached. She thought swiftly then,--she had to. She made upher mind to appeal to him.

  "Wait," she said; "don't come nearer until I speak to you. You'reright, I am a woman. I have a husband and two children. We had alittle fortune which we put into a farm in Cimarron County five yearsago. Through a succession of misfortunes we've lost every dollar. Wehave nothing except a team and this horse. We came down here to try toget something for our children. Yesterday my husband fell and brokehis arm. He was going to ride in here. He could not do it. I had tomake the run in place of him. I left him alone, back there on the edgeof the strip, with his broken arm. With the last ten dollars we had onearth I bought these boots and employed a negro boy whom I never sawbefore to bring my little children after me. I want this lot. I won itfairly. It's the best lot in the town. But you are a man; you arestronger than I. You may--" she flushed painfully, "kiss me if youmust,--if you will give me your word of honor that after that you willleave me this lot. You understand that I--I--only submit to it--forthe sake of the children and for my poor husband."

  Her eyes were full of tears now, as she clasped her hands, looked athim appealingly, and waited with burning face, trembling lips, andheaving bosom.

  "Ma'am," said the cowboy, his face also flushing under his tan, as hetook off his sombrero, "I don't want no kiss. Leastways, I don't takeno kiss under these circumstances. You kin have that there lot. I jistrode in yere fer the fun of the thing. I don't want no lot nohow.What'd I do with it? Sell it fer booze. You beat me on the square,though if it had been five miles farther I'd a beat you. Them Kentuckyhosses--I 'low he's a Kentucky hoss?--ain't no good fer long-distancerunnin' side this flea-bitten bronc. I don't want no lot noways. Youstay right here on that there lot, an' fer fear less'n somebody mightcome along an' try to make you give it up, I'll stay with you with mygun handy."

  "Thank you and God bless you," said Sue Belle, gratefully, looking athim with swimming eyes.

  Then she put her head down on Kentucky's saddle, where the horse stoodcropping the short grass, threw her arm around his neck, and sobbed asif her heart would break. The cowboy surveyed her in astonishment andterror; but, before he could say anything, the second man came racingup.

  "Well, you two young fellows have the best lots in the place, Isuppose. I'll have to take what's left," said the newcomer,cheerfully. "Great Jupiter! what's that fellow crying about?"

  "'Taint a feller," said the cowboy, "it's a female, a woman."

  "A woman!" exclaimed the other. "Say, you cowboy," with an ugly lookon his face, "have you been making a woman cry?"

  "Say, you cowboy, have you been making a woman cry?"]

  "I reckon I hev," answered the cowboy, nonchalantly.

  "You infernal----" exclaimed the m
an, stepping toward him.

  "Oh!" cried Sue Belle, raising her head, "he didn't. I'm crying forjoy!"

  As he caught sight of her the man bowed instantly toward her with thegrace of a gentleman who recognized under any accident of clothes alady.

  "My husband is ill," said Sue Belle, swiftly divining another friend,one of another class, too; "he broke his arm yesterday, and I had totake our horse and ride here for him and the two little children, andthis gentleman----"

  "Lord!" said the cowboy, "I ain't no gent. I'm a cow-puncher."

  "This gentleman came after me and promised to protect me fromeverybody. And that is why I cried."

  "Sir," said the second man, extending his hand, "I beg your pardon formy suspicions. You are a gentleman."

  "Nobody never called me one before," growled the cowboy, muchembarrassed, shaking the proffered hand awkwardly but heartily. "Idon't care fer no lot myself an' I'm goin' to hold this lot next tohern fer the little kids."

  "Well, that's just about what I came for, too. I'm a student, a seniorat Columbia College, New York, madam," he said, turning to Sue Belle,"out here for the summer to look after some of my father's Kansasproperty. I thought I'd run down here just for the fun of it. You saidyou had two children, did you not?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Allow me. I will hold the lot on the other side of you for the otherone. So you see, with this gentleman and myself, you will besurrounded and protected by the east and the west."

  Before the afternoon was half gone all the lots in Newlands had beenappropriated, lumber had been brought in, portable houses and tentserected, saloons opened, a daily paper started, and the young Bishopof Oklahoma was on the ground organizing a church; the place wasactually assuming the appearance of a city even in so short a time.The story of Sue Belle's ride had been told everywhere by her gallantflankers, and by common consent the focus of activity for the city ofNewlands was centred about those three lots. The happy, grateful womancould have sold them a hundred times at an increasing price had shechosen to do so.

  Late in the afternoon Joe came up with the wagon and the children. Hehad been faithful to his trust. Sue Belle was very much frightenedwhen she learned that her husband had secured a claim. She knew hewould endeavor to hold it, and she feared extremely for him lying illand alone on the prairie. Leaving the children in the care of some ofthe women who had followed their husbands on the trail, with thepromise of the whole town that her three lots would be held inviolatefor her, accompanied by her two faithful, self-constituted guardians,she mounted the refreshed Kentucky again and rode back to her husband,lying alone, half delirious, in his shed on the prairie, clingingdesperately to his quarter section.

  Thus the tide changed at last and now came flooding in with fortune.