The Caldwell tribune. [volume], December 22, 1883, Image 1

About The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928

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CALDWELL, IDAHO TERRITORY, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1883.
VOL. I.
no:
1
lie Caldwell Tribune
9'J.OO
. 1.50
1.00
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON.
■ „ , . . . , ,
Has permanently located in the town
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Jeweler !
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IDAEO. '
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1« Published €v«ry Saturday at
CALDWELL, IDAHO T'Y,
BY
r W. J. CTJJDIDHT.
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IDAHO.
'iontractors and Builders.
.DWELL
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•nt Avenue, Opposite Depot.
CALDWELL. IDAHO.
Caldwell
Chop House
JOHN THOMAS, Proprietor.
la aflrit-cUaa rastauranU Hoard l»y the Day
or Week.
!
. (plTY SALOON
{
ding, where the bes
kceshments can
Mned.
MOLLY.
A small dealing on a hillside, slop
j ing up from the little-traversed moun
ts ia road to the forest, upon whose
j edge, in the midst of stunted oaks and
I scraggy pines stood a rude cabin, such
as one comes upon hero and there in
! the remote wilds of West Virginia.
I The sun, pausing just above the sharp
j summit of Pinnacle mountain, threw
j slant rays across the rugged landscape.
\ which spring was touct ing up w Lb a
; thcüsand soft tints. A great swel ing
\ expanse of green, broken at inter vais
i by frowning ledges, rolled off to the
I low-lying purple mountain ranges,
whose summits still swam in sunset
j light, wti e their bases were lost in
deepest shadow. Over all, a universal
hush, the hush which thiills one with a
sense of utter isolation and loneliness.
The man and woman who were soat
, . . .. , . , ...
ed btfûre the cabin door hardly per
ceived these things. What thiir eyes
saw, doubtless, was the fair promise of
t!ie corn lield wl ioh , t retched along the
road for some cistance, the white cow
with her spotted calf, and the litter of
lively pigs which occupied inolosures
near tbe ca * J i n ' and—the tiny baby,
who lay, biinling and eluteping at
nothing, across the woman's lap. She
was looking down upon the obild with
a smile upon her face. It was a young
and handsome face, but there were
shadows in the dai k eyes and around
the droopirg lids, which the smile
could not cnase away- traces cf in
tense sufloring, strange to see in a face
i so young.
,
The man, a young and stalwart tel
; low, shaggy of ha Ir and long of limb,
had placed himse.l upon a log wbuh
lay bom I a the door step, and was lost
i a contemplation cf the small atom of
embryo manhood upon wli ;h his deep
set blue eyes wore lived. Ho had been
grapplii g for three weeks with the
overpowering fact el thh child s exist
ence, and had hardly ccuipassod it yet.
'l.oul! Molly, he exekitned, his
face broadening iato asmi.e, 'jasslook
at him now ! Look at them thar eyet.
1 copte says as babies Ion t know noth
in ' Horned lf lbot tjar y° UD S lUl I
dont look know in er n o.d .ledge
! Wtssminster Li=self. Why, I m mos
afeared on him sometimes, the way he
v S 'H'm 1 hvaT dad ter
J j ' ' &
stay, an you s jess got ter^ knuckle
tig at down tew it, dad! Lard! look at
thet thar now! And the happy tire
took one of the baby s small wunkli d
paws aid laid it acro.-s the horny palm
of his own big left hand.
'Jess look, Molly! Now you ain't
j sgoin' to tell me ez thet thar hand is
ever agoin' to handle a ax or a gun, or
—or—' pausing for a climax, 'sling
down a glass cf whisky? 'Taint pos
sible!'
At this juncture, an inquisitive fly lit
upon the tin all eminence in the center
of the child s visage destined to do duty
as a nose. Hardly had the venture
some insect settled when, without
1
j mos log a muscle of Lis solemn couu
tenance, that astonishing ibfant, with
one erratic, back-handt.il gesture,
brushed him away. The enraptured
^flatter burst into a roar of laughter.
\ 'I tola jo so, Molly! I tele ye so!
l<»b:OH i i joss a-putiiu' on. They knows
a foap more 'n they gets credit fur,
bet!' #
othing like a smile here d stend
e oLiid's uncertain mouth, and
something which might be construed
into a wink dontraoted (or au instant
bis small light eye, whereupon Lis
ecstatic father made the welkin ring
with loud haw-haws of appreciative
mirth.
Mollie laughed too, this time.
'What aman you are, Sandy? I'm
glad you fool so happy, though,' she
continued, softly, while a flush rose to
yon
S
ilm
tu
id
her cheek and quickly subsided. '1
aint been much comp'ny for ye, but I
reckon it'll be diflerent now. Since
baby come I feel bettor, every way, an'
I reckon-'
She stopped abruptly and bent low
over the child.
Sandy had ceased his contemplation
of the boy, and had listened to his
wife's woads with a look of incredulous
iMlight upon his rough but not uncome
ly face. It was evidently a new thitg
for her to apt ak so plainly, and her
husband was not unmindful of the ef
fort it must have cost her, nor ungrate
ful for the result.
'Don't say no more about it, Molly,'
bo responded, in evident embarrass
• Them days is past an'gone
forgotten. Leastwise, / aint ago/n'
Women
' htz ter bo 'lowed lur. I
z'twai more'n I cid ox
mont.
an
no more about 'em.
to 'li
*$0*-r
pect; you a-bein' so porely, an' the old
folks a-dyin', an' you a-takin' on it so
hard. I don't go fur ter say ez I aint
been out tnore'n wunst, but thet's over
an' gone; an' now, Molly,' he contin
ued cheerfully, 'things is a-lookin'up.
Kz soon ez you're strong ag'in, Ï reckon
ye'll be all i ight. The little un 'll keep
ye from ghtin' lonesome an' down
spented; now won't he, MollyP'
'Yes, Sandy,' said the woman earn
estly, 'I begin to feel as if I could be
happy—happier than I ever thought of
b in'. I'm goin' to begin a new life,
Sandy. I'm g in' to be a better wife
to ye than—I have been.'
Her voice trembled, and she stopped
suddenly ag;. in, turning her face away.
She was a strangely beautiful crea
ture to be the wife of this brawny
mountaineer. There was a softness in
her voice in stii iag contrast to bis own
rough tones, and although the moun
tain accent was plainly ubseivablo, it
II >, himself, ig
ef I can see how I ever spunked up
was greatly modi)! d.
aorant and unsophisticated, full cf the
half-savage impulses and rude virtues
of the region, was quite conscious of
the incongruity, and regaidid fcii wifa
w ith something of awe mingled with
his undemonstrat i ve but ardent passion.
He sat thus looking at her now, in a
kind of adoring wonder.
•Wall,' he exclaimed at last,'blest
enough fur to ax ye, anyhow! Ye see,
Molly, I'd allers liked ye—illert; long
afore ye ever thought o' goin' down to
RichmonV
The woman moved uneasily and
turned her eyes away from his eager
face; but Sandy failed to notice this,
and went on> w i t li increasing ardor:
«After ye'd gone I missed ye power
fn ., i used tar go over the mounting
tor nx jflar ye whenever I cud git away,
an ' w hen they told mo how ye war en
j oy j n ' y 6rse lf down thar, a-arnin heaps
mone y an > ii V j n ' so fi n0> it mos' set
me wdd _ j war allem expectin' ter
j,earezhow ye'd got merried, an'I
j^p» a .tellin' myself 'twa'n't no use;
[, u t the more I tele myself, the wuss 1
^ An'when you come home, Molly,
a .] 0 okin' so white an' mizzable like,
au ' everybody said ye'd die, it—why.it
most killed mo out, Molly, 'deed it did,
j sw -' ai »•
Sandy did not often speak of those
days 0 ( y a probation; but, finding Mol- j
ly in a ȟftened mood-Molly, who had
always been so cold and reticent, so
f u yx of moods and fanoies, — he felt em
|j 0 ] deDed to proceed.
«^ ordj Molly, I didn't hev no rest
n jg[j fc mr day i B 0 b'U tell ye how I
dUD g around( an * hung around, an'
when ye got a little better an'come
out, a-lookin'so white an' peaked, 1
war all of a trimble. I don't know now
how I ever up an'axed ye. I reckon 1
never would a-done it ef it hadn't been
fur Bub. He put me up tew it. Sez
he: "Marm's afeard as Molly'll go back
ter Richmou' ag'in,' an' that war more
'n I could stand; an' so I axed ye, Mol
ly.'
Sandy's face was not one adapted to
the expression of tender emotion, but
there was a perceptible mellowing of
the irregular features and rough voice
as ho went on.
'I axed ye, M.lly, an' ye said 'Yes';
au' I aint never bed no call to be sorry
cz I axed ye, an' I hope you aint,
nuther,—say, Molly?' aud the great
hand was laid tendiirly on her arm -
'No, Sandy,' said she, 'I aint had
no call to be sorry. You've been good
to mo; a heap botter'n I have been to
you.'
Truly, Molly was softening. Sandy
could hardly credit his own happiness.
Ho ran his lingers through the tawuy
fringe of his board awhile before he an
swered.
'Thet's all right, Molly. I laid out
to be good to ye, an' I've tried to be.
Say, Molly,' he continued, with a kind
of pleading earnestness in his voice,
'ye've done hankerin' arter the city,
aint ye? Kind o' gettin' used to the
mountings ag'in, aint ye, Molly?'
It was quite dark on the little hill
side now, and Molly could turn her face
boldl} toward her husband.
'What makes ye keep a-harpin' on
that, Sandy? 1 aint hankered after the
city—not for a long time,' and a slight
shudder ran over her. 'Just put that
idea out of your head, Sandy. Nothing
could over tempt mo to go to the city
again. I hate it.'
She spoke with tierce emphasis, on i
rose to go in. Sandy, somewhat puz
zled by her manner, but re-assured by
her wordi, heaved a sigh and rose also.
The stars were out, and from a little
patch of swamp at the toot of the hill
came the shrill piping ot innumori.bl
frogs, and a whip-poor-will's wild, sa i
cry pierced tue silence. The baby had
long since fallen asleep. The mother
laid him in his cradle, and night aad
rest settled down over the little cabin.
Spring had passed into summer, and
summer was already on the wane; an
August morning had dawned over the
mountains. Although the sun shone
warmly down upon the dow-dronched
eartn, the air was still deliciously cool
and fresh.
Molly stood in the door-way, holding
in her arms the baby, whose look of
preturnatural wisdom had merged it
self into one of infantile softness and
benignity. She was holding him up fur
the benefit of Sandy, who, as ho wont
down the red, dusty road, driving the '
white cow before him, turned now and
then to bestow a grimace upon his son i
and heir. That small personage's ex
istence, while perhaps less a matter of
astonishment than formerly, had lost
none of the charms of novelty. Ho
was ^ fine, robust little man, and cooed
and chuckled rapturously in his moth
er's arms, stretch ng out his hands tow
ard the scarlet blossoms of the trumpet
vine which climbed around the door
way. Mother and child made a fair
picturo in the twining green frame
touched up with flatne-lika clusters of
bloom—a picture which was not lost
upon Sandy, who, as he passed out of
sight of the cabin, shook his head, and
said to himself again, as he had many
end many a time before:
'Blest ef I see how I ever got up
spunk enough to ax her!'
Molly watched her husband out of
sight, and then let her eyes '"ander
over the summer landscape. Tnere
was a look of deep content in her face,
which was no longer pale and worn,
The traces of struggle and suffering
had disappeared. The past may have
had its anguish, and its sins, perhaps,
but the present must have seemed
peaceful and secure, for she turned
from the doorway with asong upon her
lips,—a song which lingered all the
morning as she went in and out about
her household tasks, trying to make
more trim and bright that which was
already the perfection of trimness and
brightness. When she bad finished her
work the morning was far advanced
and the sun glared hotly in at the win
dow and door.
She had rocked the baby to sleep and |
came out of the inner room with the
happy mother-look upon her f tee. Shew'
turned to look back, to see, perhaps, Jflf
the fly-net were drawn carefully dvW
the little sleeper. As she stood thus
she was conscious of a humât» shadow
which fell through the outer door and
blotted out the square of sunshine
which lay across the floor, and a deep
voice said:
'I'd thank you for a drink of water,
ma'am.'
Molly turned quickly and the eyes of
the two met. Ozer the man's face
came a look of utter amazement which
ended in an evil smile.
Over the woman's face came a
change s( sudden, so terrible, that the
new-comer, base and hardened as he
looked, seemed struck by it, and the
cruel smile subsided a little as he ex
claimed;
■Mollie Craigie, by all that's holy!'
mail die} not seem to hear him.
Tstaring at him with wild in
Lpyos and parted ?'«»$. from
Be in a husky whisper the
The
She si
croduj
whiiJ
W01
pies!
struck the palms' of her
fher and with a sharp cry j
111
i chair. The man stepped
|iroshold and stood in the
con t0 r of tho room looking curiously
abo^t him. jTe was a large, powerful- |
ly b^,iit f«'A9w and in a certain way a '
hanrfsome one. He was atHre-J in i j
kind, of hunting costume - nich he wore ;
with ft jaunty, theatrical air. v j
'I swear!' he exclaimed, with a low,
sai
acre
brutal laugh, as his eyes took in the de
tails of the neat little kitchen, aud came
at last to rest upon the woman's white ;
face. 'I swear I I do believe Molly's :
The idea seemed to strike him aa a
married !'
peculiarly novel and amusing one.
'Mollie Craigie married and settled
down! Well, if that isn't a good one!'
and he burst into another cruel laugh,
His mocking words seemed at last to
sting the woman, who had sat smitten
mute before him, into action. She
rose and faced him, trembling, but de
'Dick Staples, what brought ye hero
only God knows, but ye mustn't slay
here. Ye must go 'way this minute,
d'ye here? Tt must go 'way!'
She spoke firmly but hurriedly,
giancing down tbe road as she did so.
fiant.
tu» m »UM «.rod blankly at hi r for a
moment
'Weifi, now, \t that aint
V
to treat an old friend! Why, Molly,
you aint going back on Dick you aint
seen for so long, are youP I'd no idea
of ever seeing you again, but now I've
found yon, you don't rid of me so easy.
I'm going to make myself at homo,
Molly, see if I don't.' And the man
seated himself and crossed his legs
comfortably looking about him with a
mocking air of geniality and fiiondli
ness. 'Why, d—n it!' he continued,
'I'm going to stay to dinner and be in
troduced to your husband!'
Molly went nearer to him ; the de
dance in her manner had disappeared
and a look of almost abject terror and
' appeal had taken its place,
'Dick,' she cried, imploringly, 'oh,
i Dick, for God's sake hear
want to see mo, to speak with mo, I
won't refuse ye, only not here, Dick,—
for God's sake not here!' and she
glanced desperately around. 'What
brought ye here, Dick, and where are
you stayin'?'
'Well, then,' he answered surlily,
'I ran up hero or a little shooting, and
I'm staying at Digby's.'
'At Digby's! That's three miles bo
me! If ye
low here.' She spoke eagerly. 'Dick,
yuu noticed the little mootin' -house just
below hero in the hollow?'
The man nodded,
'If ye'll go away, now, Dick, right
away, I'll meet ye in the woods. Eol
low the path that leads up behind the
moetin'-house tomorrow mornin' be
tween ton and eleven an' I'll meet ye
there, but, oh, Dick, for God's sake go
away now, before—before Ac comet!'
The desperation in her voice and
looks produced some effect upon the
man apparently, for he rose and said:
'Well, Molly, as you're so particular
I'll do as yon say; but mind now, don't
you play mo no tricks. If you aint
then-, punctual, I'll be Acre,- now see if
I don't, my beauty.' Ho would have
flung his arms about her, but she start
ed back with flaming eyes,
'None o'that, Dick Staples!'
'Spunky as ever, and twice as haud
some, I swear!' exclaimed the fodow,
gazing admiringly at her.
'Are ye goin'?'
There was something in her voice
and mien which compelled obedience,
aud the man prepared to go. Outside
the door he slung Lis rifle over his
shoulder and looking back, said:
'Remember, now. Molly, "meet me
in the willow glen," you know. Puac
tual's the word!' and with a meaning
smile he sauntered down the slope,
humming a popular mekd y as he went.
The woman stood for a time as he
had left her, her arms hanging by her
side, her eyes fixed upon the dot r«ay.
The babyfslept peacefully on, and out
side the birds were twittering and call
ing, and the bre zj tossed the vine
tendrils in at door and window, throw
ing graceful, dancing shadows ever the
floor and across her white face and
nerveless hands. A whistle, clear and
cheery, came piping through the sultry
noontide stillness. It pierced her dead
ened senses, and she started ; passing
her hand across her eyes,
'God!'
That was all she said. Then she be
gan laying the table and preparing the
midday meal. Wben Sandy reached
the cabin she was moving about with
nervous haste, her eyes gleaming
strangely and a rod spot on either
•} u ''ek. Her husband's eyes followed
her wondering' y . The child awoke
and she went-to bring him.
'I wonder what's up now?' he mut
tored, combing his beard with his fin
gors. as lie was wont to do when per
pltxed or embarrassed. 'Women is
cnr'ut! They's no two ways about it.
they is cnr'us! They's no 'countin' fur
io to* 1 'jjeed they siat!' I
At this the and
after his usual frolic with him, during
which he did not cease his furtive
study of Molly's face, Sandy shouldered
bis hoe and started for the field. As
ho reached the door he turned and said:
'O Molly, I seen a man a-goin Ucross
the road by the orick; one o' them city
fellers, rigged out in huntin' traps,
Did ye see him?'
Molly was standing with her back
toward her husband, putting away the
remains of the meal.
'A man like that came to the door
an'asked (or a drink,' she answered
quietly.
'He warn't sassy nor nothin'? in
quired Sandy, anxiously.
'No—he wasn't sassy,' was the an
swer.
Sandy breathed a sigh ot relief,
'Them city tellers is migb:y apt tobe
sassy, an' this time o' year they'se al
lers prowlin' 'round,' and bestowing
another rough caress on the baby he
went his way.
That evening, as they sat together
before the door Sandy said:
'O Molly, I'm agein' over ter Jim
Barker's by sun-up cer-morrer, ter help
him out with his booin'. Ye wont be
lonesome nor nothin'?'
'No—I reckon not,' replied his wife.
' 'Twont be the first time I've been
here alone.'
Involuntarily the eyes of the husband
and wife met, in h.s a furtive question^
ing look which she met with a steady
gaze. In the dusky twilight her |f
showed pale as marble and her
pulsated strangely. The mm> "turned
his eyes away; there was ;^(6lhing
at
in t
that face which ho conld t* boar
And at 'sun-up* Sandy departed,
Molly wont about her tork as usual.
Nothing was forgoU-'n, xotnii g neg
Tlie two snail rooms shone
and
looted
with neatness and ipmfort,
at last the chi 1.1 slept.
The hour for her meeting*) c
pies had arrived, aud Molly^ v
aud closed the cabin door beb^
but here her feet faltered. V
paused. With her hands press«
ly on her heart she stood there]
moment with the b
shine falling over hè^i sudde
turned and re-entered
noiselessly into the bedrooL
down by the sleeping obild. Ohot
languid little hand drooped -ove
cradle's edge. As her eyes (ell up
ht A
e cabi
a quiver passed over the woman's.vhitl
face, and she laid her cheek softly
against it, her lips moving the while
Then she arose and went avay.
Down the dusty road, with rapid,un
faltering steps and eyes that loaed
straight before her, she passed, and Us
appeared in the shadow of the (ores.
When Sandy came home at nlghihe
found his wife standing in the dooriq ,
her dark braids falling over far
shoulders, her cheeks burning, her Res
full of a tire which kindled his fu
slow but ardent nature. He bad nfr
seen her looking so beautiful, am|e
came on toward her witli quick« d
steps aud a glad look in hA face.
'Hero, Molly,' said ho, holding up^H
tier face a bunch of dazzling cardii^H
flowers, 'I pulled these fur ye, down^T"
the gorge.'
Sue shrank from the vivid, bl ood-red
blossoms as if he had struck I or, aud
her face turned ashy-white.
'In the eoigi ! she repeated b< arsly—
'in the gorge! Throw them away!
throw them away !' and she « owered
down upon the door-stone, hlc ng her
face upon her knees. Her hasbaad
stared at her a moment, hurt and be
wildered; then, throwing the lowers
far down the slope, he went past her
into the house.
'Molly's gittin on her spells og'fti,'
be muttered. 'Lord, Lord, I »»J,
hopes « z she war over 'em fur.
Experience having ti
_ _ it him t|
leave ner to herself at such times, hi
said nothing now, UU sat with the chill
upon his lap, looking at her from timJ
to time wilh a patient, wistful look, y-j
last the gloom and silence were
than be could bear.
moi
•Molly,' said he softfy, 'what a h ye?
At the sound of bis voice she startet
and ros\ Going to him, she tcok th<
child and went o«t cf the
she did so, Sandy noticed that a portion
other dross was torn away. He re
marked it with wonder, as well as her
disordered hair. It was not like Molly
at all; but he said nothing, putting this
unusual negligence down to that gene
ral 'cnr'usuess' of womankind which
room.
past
The next day and the next passctL
away. Sandy went in and out, sileflf]
and unobtrusive, but with his heart fu
of sickening fears. A half-formel
doubt of his wife's sanity— a doulfj
which her strange, fitful conduct dur
ing these days, and her wild and hag
gard looks only served to confirm_
haunted him persistently. He couidf
not work, but wandered about, restless
and
and Unhappy beyond measure.
On the third day, as he sat, moody
and wretched, upon the (ence of the
cornfield, Jim Barker, hia neighbor
from the other side of the
mountain,
came along and asked him to join him
on a hunting excursion,
at the idea, hoping to escape for a time
from the insupportable thoughts he
ouuld not banish, and went
He snatched
up to tbe
oabin fur his gun. As he took it down,
Molly's eyes followed him.
'Where are ye goin', Sandy * ,h 0
asked.
'With Jim, fur a little sbootinV
tho answer. 'Ye don't mind. j
She came to him and laid
upon his shoulder, and, as he
down upon her iaoe, he was
startled at its pinched and suit« 11 'M
pect. am
iCoitiuiIiiRou 4m