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\ ( A M ♦ 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 of Caldwell and will attend promptly to all calls day or night in his pro fession. I also have a good assortment of drugs and patent medicines at Dan I j Jeweler ! ' j [ IDAEO. ' i ! 1« Published €v«ry Saturday at CALDWELL, IDAHO T'Y, BY r W. J. CTJJDIDHT. Office, 509 Market Ave. SUBSCRIPTION: One Year Six Months Three Months Single Copy, Ten Cents. * ADVERTISING RATESfCIVENf ON APPLICATION. L. Danforth, M. D,, W. Haller, Watchmaker and [Front Avenue, 'AID WELL, Burton & Brown j j i ; j sal Estate and Law Office. Apply at Danilson's. mrber Shop KING & WALSH, \s. Wohlgumeth, Prop. >h tODfrori*! work by the best artists In Idaho. t. Ii.vo. C. «J. WAI.S1I. * Af-frvr>r«QTro <r»F I ! AUIUI ilcjb dL LdW. ttaTsSSu *^«Tl?v.T r to 0 Ä 0 e n !S uii«s st»w» L»n<i omce. Loan» ne«otute<t and i.i prompti) atten, i«<i to. H. j. Goetzman. >ICK OVER 8PAIN1KAUV8 STORE, IDAHO. lOlfe CITY, mel. jimel & Goetzman, j joiWork a specialty. Keep on Hand a Pnii ' 1 IDAHO. 'iontractors and Builders. .DWELL staurant ! /mjxü Proprietor. •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 »üftened 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