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THURSDAY, SEPT. 24, 1942
THE STORY SO FAR: Clay Morgan has decide to play a lone hand against Ben Herendeen, a rancher bent on run ning the cattle country his own way. The two men have been enemies for years, having first fought over Clay’s wife, Lila, who died hating him and be lieving she should have married Heren deen. Morgan is a solitary figure, devot ed to his nine-year-old daughter. Janet. Although two women, Catherine Grant and Ann McGarrah, are in love with him, they know he cannot forget Lila. Of his former friends, only Hack Breathitt had not gone over to Herendeen's side. Now Hack is dead, shot by Herendeen’s foreman. Charley Hillhouse. Gurd Grant, Catherine's brother, joined Her endeen when he learned that Catherine had been to Morgan’s ranch, but the cold bloodedness of Hack’s murder has made him break with Herendeen. Warned by Fox Willing, a “nester” he once befriended, Clay discovers that Herendeen is stealing his cattle. He is nearly killed when he goes to Heren deen's ranch for a showdown, but he is saved by Lige White, one of Herendeen’s friends. Like Gurd Grant, he is fed up with Herendeen's high handed methods. Clay and his men drive his cattle back into Government Valley, Clay’s range. In the fight with Herendeen that follows, Lige is badly hurt. Now Clay is talking to Janet, who has discovered that she likes Catherine Grant better than Ann McGarrah and is not sure she should. Now continue with the story. CHAPTER XVIII In the following silence Clay at once sensed that Janet was strug gling with her loyalty to Ann Mo Garrah. She said: “I don’t know. Daddy. Do you like her a lot? As much as you like Ann?” He said: “Maybe I do, Janey. I’m going to town now. Better sleep.” She turned in the bed, her small body curled beneath the blankets and her head sinking into the pillow. She murmured: “It is like having a mother. It really is.” He went out of her room. There was a difference in women nobody could explain, an understanding, or a toiich, or some mysterious fra grance of personality some had and some did not have. Fox Willing was in the room with Lige White the re^t of the crew had left the house. Catherine waited for him downstairs. “Janey wants you to stay on to night.” She moved around the table. She put this distance between them de liberately, no longer smiling. “I can’t do that, Clay. Not now.” He said: “I keep forgetting it wouldn’t look right to you. Well, I don’t know what you’ve done to Jan et, but you did it.” She said with some concern: “You don’t mind, Clay? I wanted her to like me—and that’s why I came!” He said, still in wonder: “How did you do it?” Her eyes showed him a warm, deep shining. “She’s still a girl, Clay, wanting to believe little-girl things and live in the land of make believe. She knows those things aren’t so, but she wants the com fort of them a little while longer. And I talked to her as though those things were good things.” “Wait until I get back from town and I’ll ride home with you.” “I’m not afraid of the ride, Clay.” But she closed her lips, color rising on her cheeks. “Hate to have vou go alone.” “Then I’ll wait.” Harry Jump joined him in the yard, but Morgan shook his head. “I won’t be long, and you've got to watch this place.” Jump had saddled a fresh horse for him and now he lined out for town along a road smothered by a deep, moon-shot fog whose thickness touched him and seemed to break as he went through it. The lights of War Pass didn’t show until he had turned into the main street. He went at once to Doc Padden’s house, hailing him out. “Lige White’s in a bad w’ay, at my place. I’ll go back with you.” Padden said, in rough regret, “Ev erything happens. Wait a minute.” He went into the house for his hat and bag and walked down Custer Street with Morgan. “You heard the latest? Hillhouse killed Breathitt. He brought Breathitt into town and went out again.” They were near the stable when Morgan stopped. “In town?” he said. “Go ahead, Padden, I’ll catch up with you.” Padden said: “Hillhouse bought a quart of whisky and started back to Three Pines. I guess it was on his soul, as God knows it should have been. Billy Wells came in a few minutes ago. He saw a team and wagon standing at the edge of Cache River near the Cottonwood ford, so he went over to look. Hillhouse sat against one of the trees. Guess he finished the bottle first. There was one bullet hole through the tree and another through his headL He killed himself.” Padden was a rough-handed man, made so by the kind of gunshot med icine he practiced but he had his moments of insight and now walked to the stable without looking around. Morgan stood in the street's dust un til he saw Padden ride away, then he turned down the street, left his horse by the hotel, and entered Pad den’s office. A night lamp burned here, wick turned low. He screwed up the light and took it with him into the adjoining room. The first thing he noticed was Charley’s hat placed over Hack Breathitt’s face. And when he saw it he knew at once the hell that had been in Char ley Hillhouse’s mind—his relentless zeal and his memories of olden times confusedly mixing and torturing him. This last small act of grace, the placing of the hat across Hack’s eyes, told the whole story of Char ley’s suicide. The wild and bitter He noticed Charley’s hat placed over Hack Bredthitt’s face. winds governing Chaney had blown him at last out of life. Living or dead, the essential things of a man seemed to remain on his face. It was so with Hack. The disbelieving, cheerful insolence was still present. Born restless and full of scornful courage, he had carried these qualities with him wherever he was now, Morgan thought, he’d be showing hell or heaven the same half-gay and half-ironic expression. Maybe, Morgan added, it was the best way out. For during these lat ter days he had seen a faint disillu sionment in Hack, as though the youthful freshness and the strong appetites were wearing thin. Well, it was a new trail for Hack now he could travel it with the same gusty pleasure that once had been his. Morgan replaced the hat and re turned the lamp to the other room. On the street he felt the brush of air on his cheek, and stood a mo ment in thought. These men had been close to him. Their passing left an empty place, reminding him that his wish to keep his youth alive was a futile wish. Suddenly, this part of the past was gone, leaving him high and dry, and presently other parts would go. It was a mis take to look behind, to try to hang on to what was over and done with. For him it was a strange thought and a powerful one it pulled at his very roots and made him feel in secure. He turned toward his horse. Jesse Rusey came from the shadows near the hotel. He said, “One Moment, Clay ...” But at the same time, looking across the street, Morgan found Ann McGarrah on the store’s porch. Her eyes were on him and, silent as she was, he felt the pull of her will or of her wish, and so he walked toward her. Rusey held his position by the ho tel, watching Morgan and Ann Mc Garrah go into the store and close the door behind them. A light came through the window, reflected from the back room of the store in a mo ment another door closed and this light died. Rusey rubbed a hand across his chin. Distant in him was a faint envy at Clay Morgan’s op portunities, and a worldly man’s curiosity. For Rusey’s philosophy was a gray philosophy, wrung out of his cool, perpetual watchfulness. All people had wants. Some wants were little and some were big 'some came cheap and some came high— but to all people sooner or later came a time when they placed their pride and all that they believed in against the one thing they most wanted and made their decision. Usually they sold out. For in the world Jesse Rusey so* closely watched, wants always came first. He knew what Ann McGarrah want ed. He knew her pride and her scorn of the ordinary follies and ap petites. Now he stood, rubbing his chin, faintly amused that all these qualities had bought her nothing, and knowing she realized it know ing too she was close to her own decision. He had his curiosity and shrugged his shoulders and turned up the street. But he stopped again, still in the shadows. At that moment Herendeen en tered town with the Ryder brothers. Parr Gentry came from the stable and for a little while there was talk between these men. Later, Heren deen went up the hill to Doc Pad den’s house. A few minutes after wards he returned to the group, shaking his head. Parr Gentry point ed down the street and all of them turned to stare at Clay Morgan’s horse still standing by the hotel. Ann McGarrah followed Morgan into the store’s living room. She came about and paused in front of him, quick to see the rough usage he had been through. Always, in action or in trouble, his eyes had a smoky coloring and this was pres ent now. “Sit down, Clay. If you’re hun gry, if you want anything—” “No, not right now. I’ve got to get back to the ranch. I sent Pad den ahead. Lige White’s been shot. We had a brush with Ben in Govern ment Valley.” “What—” “We drove him back. But noth ing’s settled.” She said: “You know about Hack? Of course—you came from there.” He sank into the chair, his long legs pushed forward. She stood near him, looking down. She put her hands before her, locked together, and for a moment she had the ex pression of a little girl on her face, half-wistful and half-stormy. She said: “You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t. Suppose it had been you instead of Hack? And when you meet Heren deen, which one will it be? You are sure to meet. Everybody knows that. It is as certain and as brutal as death. Well, it is death. Clay, is there anything I can say to stop you?” “No, not now, Ann.” “Not now, and not at any time,” she added quietly. “I have never been able to change you. Never. In any way at all.” He said: “Why worry about it?” You know me pretty well. I know you pretty well. Let’s be satisfied with that.” She walked away from him. At a corner of the room she turned, fac ing him over the distance. “What do you know about me? What do you really know?” “I told you once, and you didn’t like it.” “When you said it, Clay, you nev er meant it. It was a joke—and I hated you.” He shook his head, puzzled and gently amused at her. “There is fire enough in you to burn up the town. You swing like the weather—never still. You could be the kind of a woman, I think, to throw furniture at a man when you got mad. You could crucify him—if you loved him. And be sorry afterwards, I guess.” “Oh, Clay,” she said, humbly, “not a scold—not a spitfire.” “No,” he admitted. “Just Ann McGarrah who wants things per fect.” Her eyes grew darker and dark er. “Clay,” she said, near to a whisper, “you don’t mean to be cru el, but you are. If—” She shrugged her shoulders, quickly changed the subject. “How’s Janet?” “All right. Catherine came up to see her today.” He watched stillness come to her face, a listening in tentness, a coolness holding away her dislike. Then he said. “They seem to get along mighty well.” She said: “Don’t you want cof fee?” “Better get back and see how Lige is making out,” he said, coming to his feet. She walked toward him. She stood in front of him, quite near—this small, supple girl so intense and so crowded with willful pride. She was dark, she was vivid her lips were red and firm across her oval face and he caught the fragrance of her hair and was affected by it. Looking up, she drew a long, long breath. He never was able to de fine the look he saw in her eyes that night—it was like fear or shame, or like a woman forcing herself over some obstacle she dreaded. Her voice was taut and very slow. “It is hard to learn some things, Clay. Hard to learn that sometimes noth ing comes by waiting, or by pray ing. And very hard to find out that a woman has to change as she swore she could never change. All that I am is right here in front of you, but it never has been enough—just to be in front of you. Is it something cold about me, or something of an old maid in me? I don’t know. But only once did I ever see anything in your eyes that I put thepe. That was when I wore a dress which left my shoulders bare. I was a woman to you that night.” She lifted her arms. They touched his shoulders and lay there, with the smallest pressure in them, pull ing him. He saw her lips lengthen and part, he saw her eyes widen, as though she opened herself to him completely. Reaching forward he kissed her, catching the force of her sudden-giving body. But even then there was a difference, a strain, a lack. When ne stepped back they both knew it. She caught her breath sharply, turning away. And said in a dulling voice: “No, not for me. Well, good-by.” (TO HE CONTINUED) LaFayette Mrs. Margaret Ward, Mrs. Bess Kenyon, and Mrs. Anna Kendrick, Mr. and Mrs. Percy Reynolds of Lima, and Mrs. Leila Knoble were Thursday guests of Mrs. Louise Cloore. Mr. and Mrs. B. A. Mallone of Dayton were week-end guests of Mr. and Mrs. Allen Watt. Mr. and Mrs. Dorance Thompson and family were week-end guests of Mr. and Mrs. William Kline at Chicago, Illinois. Mr. William Brown of Lima is spending several weeks with Mr. and Mrs. E. L. Roberts. Mrs. Grady of Lima was a week end guest of Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Maxwell. Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Clum and Mrs. Ema Zuber were Saturday guests of Mrs. Loretta Clum. Feathers now are on the list of things wanted to protect soldiers and sailors from cold. The U. S. formerly imported most of its sup ply of waterfowl feathers from for eign countries which now are inac cessible. Some poultrymen pluck geese as often as every six weeks in spring, summer and fall. STATEMENT Statement of the ownership, manacement. editorship, etc., of The Bluffton News, pub lished at Bluffton, Ohio, required by the Act of August 24. 1912. Publisher The Bluffton News Publishing & Printing Company.. Bluffton. Ohio. Editor—C. A. Biery, Bluffton, O. Managing Editor—C. A. Biery, Bluffton, O. Business Manager—B. F. Biery, Bluffton. O. Owners—B. F. Biery, C. A. Biery, Fred Get ties, R. L. Triplett, Etta Biery, Leona Get ties all of Bluffton, O. Bondholders, mortgagees and other security holders, none. C. A. Biery, Editor. Sworn to and subscribed before me this 30th day of September, 1942. F. S. Herr, Notary Public. THE|bLUFFTON NEWS, BLUFFTON, OHIO PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN (1831-1888) General Sheridan, an Ohio boy who was to become one of the world’s great cavalry leaders, had spent the night at Winchester. He was on his way from Wash ington, back to his army at Cedar Creek, 20 miles away it was a clear, crisp autumn morning— October 19, 1864. Then, s "Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain’s door. The terrible grumble, and rum ble, and roar, Telling the battle teas on once more, And Sheridan twenty miles away"* Sheridan knew perfectly the meaning of that “rumble, and roar.” Early, the Confederate gen eral, had swung his troops into action against Sheridan’s army. Rienza, Sheridan’s black charger, was lifted to a gallop. “Under his spurring feet, the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed." Soon wounded men, stragglers and wagons were seen headed from the battle. “Turn back,” Maudif. Petotonal “When the frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder’s in the shock” with apologies to Riley—early risers Mon day morning saw frost on the pump kin.... but there wasn’t much fodder in the shock... .‘cause the corncutter^ are doing squad right....or turning out planes for Uncle Sam....which reminds us that if you’ve got to wag your tongue keep it busy liking De fense stamps... .and Swank’s grid squad got to clicking in the last quar ter, racking up a 12 to 0 again over Col. Grove.........good game and the fans got thrills a-plenty... .have to look ’em over gain Friday night whei) Ada comes... .talk that Swank may be doing squad right, but probably not until after football season... .and the Grove boys forgot to stand at at tention during playing of Star Spang led Banner last Friday night before the game at Harmon field—but they’ll remember next time... .and where Oh where has the coffee gone—just a va cant spot on the grocer’s shelf where the java used to be... .and meat mar ket ran out of bacon other day........ well it’s war....and everyone’s busy, especially nurses.........maybe that’s why the flag was hoisted upsidedown at the hospital the other day....but the error was rectified before temper atures went too high... .and they say that Paul Diller, Bluffton mortician still makes a good hand on the farm, having answered an emergency call to help fill the silo at Nelson Basing er’s.......... Watermelons are growing right in a Bluffton man’s front yard—and you can see it for yourself at Oliver Stein r’s, 165 Thurman street. And Oliver wil Itell you that they’re good, too. He picked one Monday morning— weighing 28 lbs. and there are three mor on the vine which will ripen soon if the frost holds off. Oliver says the watermelon vine is a volunteer— he did not plant the seed. However, it may have been in some dirt which he had hauled on his lot last spring, he opines. Evan Soash, in naval training at Great Lakes got a closeup of the President last Saturday when he in spected a group of marines who were stationed at Pearl Harbor at the time of the Jap sneak attack. It was an eventful day for the Bluffton youth— up at 2 a. m. to get everything ship shape for inspection and late in the afternoon catching a train to spend a few hour’s furlough here with his par ents, Dr. and Mrs. M. D. Soash. Bluffton boys rate in the army— y€s sir_ and just to prove it four ser vice men who were home on furlough last week all wore corporals stripes. They were Raymond Greding, Robert Dillman, John Stonehill and Elmer Burkholder, Jr. WE PAY FOR HORSES $4.00 COWS $2.Q0 (of size and condition) Call ALLEN COUNTY FERTILIZER 23221—LIMA, OHIO Reverse Tel. Charres E. G. Bacbaieb, Inc. Sheridan called. “The battle is behind you.” “He dashed doum the line, ’mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course then, because The sight of the master com pelled it to pause." Twenty miles, fifteen miles, ten miles, five miles, Sheridan had galloped. The battlefield. Noth ing could now stop his men. The Battle of Cedar Creek was won. Phil Sheridan lived as a boy in Somerset, Perry County. He at tended school and at 14 clerked in a village store. But he always wanted to be a soldier. An ap pointment to West Point brought him his ambition. He fought through the Civil War. He was military governor after the war of Texas, Louisiana and Missouri. He fought the Plains Indians of the West. In 1888 he was the third Ohioan to be made a general. He died two months later, 57 years old. At Somerset, an equestrian monu ment has been erected to his memory. "Sheridan's Ride," written by J. Buchanan Read at Cincinnati, November 1, 1864, and first re cited at Pikes Opera House by James E. Murdock. Just one of those unexpected inci dents which one meets with at sea— Sammy Trippiehorn, in the navy, writes that his ship on a recent trip back from Scotland picked up 45 survivors of a torpedoed merchant vessel. First of the fall apple crop is ap pearing on the market. The apples from orchards in this section this year are of superior quality and larger than average, thanks to ideal grow ing conditions this summer. And speaking of an apple, we can recall that it has a long and distinguished lineage. It was the apple that pic tured Eve taking from the serpent in the Garden of Eden, though the Book of Genesis calls it simply “the fruit of a tree.” It was an apple that dropped on Sir Isaac Newton’s head and gave us modern science. The apple Will iam Tell shot from the head of his son gave the Swiss their freedom. And let’s not forget poor Paris, first and most beset of all beauty judges according to Greek legend. It was a golden apple that,, pinch hitting for Jupiter he had to place in the hand of the fairest goddess. Remember how they tried to bribe him and how Venus promised of fair Helen of Troy for wife won her the prize and plunged the world into the Trojan wars? Saturday to Sunday represented what was probably the biggest dip in the thermometer here for many years. After sweltering in humid mid-sum mer heat with the mark in the nine ties people were aware Sunday night that more and heavier blankets would be needed. Bang! Monday morning our thermometer dropped 50 degrees to register a temperature 40 degrees above zero. Much as we enjoy the cool sleeping at night we certainly hope the temperature doesn’t drop another 50 degrees over night. This would give us 10 degrees below zero. June Sechler and Colleen Goodman had the thrill of their lives when they saw three of their favorite movie stars at Lima. Sunday. They said that they were close enough to touch Fred Astaire, the dancer-actor Ilona Massey, the movie actress and Hugh Hubert ,the comedian. Asked if they didn’t see Governor Bricker, who was the main speaker at the war bond ral ly, the girls replied, "Oh Yeah, we did see him too.” Not only is the Bluffton News earn ing the story of the accomplishments of David Kliewer in sinking a Japan ese submarine, but also the Sunday is sue of the Chicago Tribune. The ac count described in the large metro politan daily was somewhat similar to the one in this paper and also told of the letter recently received by his parents describing conditions in the Japanese prison camp. Disgusted after trying every known technique to keep the wheel of the lawn mower on, Billy Haller, junior high school student gave up and fin ished the job on his neighbor’s lawn with his own mower. Billy, son of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Haller of near Bluffton, was engaged in mowing the lawn of a neighbor when the wheel of the mower came off. Billy found it impossible to make the wheel stay on and gave up in disgust after which he finished the job with the family mow er. Ice cold pop was consumed by the dozen gallon at the high school foot ball game Friday night. It was a warm evening and the pop just hit the spot. Some of the town Romeos are wear ing multi-colored shoe laces. Sort of a fancy looking hair ribbon worn on the other end of the anatomy. David Stearns was plenty worried Saturday night when he finished his paper route and found that he had five papers too many. He tried to think of the customers he had missed but could think of no one. The mys tery was solved when chance conver sation revealed that Harley Steiner, the other Blade carrier, had ordered five extras and was to have received them on Saturday. Nearly heart-broken over the loss of a packet of 25 cent war savings stamps in the amount of $9.50, Doni van Augsburger, the enterprizing news carrier-stamp salesman, is now all smiles. After a small ad was in serted in the Bluffton News last week the lost stamps were returned to him by Aldine Kohli. Don says that he was so overjoyed he converted the stamps along with a partially filled stamp book into a $25 war bond in his own name. “Younkman’s butter” enjoyed by many a Bluffton family for more than a generation will disappear from din ner tables here this week—one of the casualties of war. The butter, pro duced at the Guy Younkman farm south of town was noted for its uni i/asf in Time for School... Practice Typing Paper Standard Size 8/4x11 Inches 500 Sheets. 25c (No Broken Packages) Bluffton News Office Farmers Notice We have installed a machine for Wheat and Cats reatl ng New and Improved Ceresan Used. Grain must be bagged for cleaning and treating. Farmers Groin Co. Phone 109-W Bluffton PAGE SEVEN formly superior quality and command ed a premium price on the market here. Demands for the product was always greater than the supply. Drafting of a son for military service and inability to obtain help resulted in a decision to discontinue butter making and sell milk produced by their herd. The squirrel season opened Tues day—but Don Wenger didn’t go afield, altho he had planned going for the past week. By the irony of fate Don who is employed nights in a Lima plant, was obliged to take over the duties of a fellow worker who failed to report Monday night—and these duties involved a lot more walking than Don was uesd to—so Don decid ed to rest on Tuesday—and wait until later to go out for squirrels. Just a tip to husbands—if friend wife is picked up for violation of the traffic rules, better not say anything about it, for you may have the same thing coming also. Illustrating the case in point is the story going the rounds of a Bluffton woman who was stopped by a patrolman while enroute to Lima, Saturday afternoon, caution ed that she was exceeding the 40 mile speed limit and informed that names of speeders would be reported to rub ber rationing boards and the record held against them when they applied for new tires. What her husband’s comments were we don’t know—but believe it or not the report has it that on the very next day when husband had the family out for a Sunday ride he was also stopped and given a sim ilar warning against speeding. Armorsville Mr. and Mrs. H. O. Hilty spent Sunday with Mr. and Mrs. Robert Ewing. Mr. and Mrs. Dale Moore and daughter of Detroit spent Sunday at the W. I. Moore home. Mrs. Laurence Hosafros and Mrs. Robert Hess called on Mrs. Don O’Conner of Findlay Thursday even ing. Mr. and Mrs. Levi Hauenstein and son were Lima callers Sunday. Mrs. Sarah Oates and son Don, Miss Clarabel Owens spent Sunday in Ada. Mr. and Mrs. Otis Basinger called Sunday evening at the W. I. Moore home. Mrs. Earl Stuart spent Monday with Mrs. Gladys Hosafros. Lynn Carmack and Billy Lee Augsburger spent Friday night and Saturday with Don Oates. Mr. and Mrs. W. I. Moore called Monday evening at the C. E. Kling ler home. Mr. and Mrs. C. E. Klingler, Mr. and Mrs. L. A. Klingler spent Sun day afternoon at the John W. Wilkins home near Arlington.