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The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, September 24, 1942, Image 7

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THURSDAY, SEPT. 24, 1942
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.
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
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
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
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
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.”
“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
“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
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
“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.”
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
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
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 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.
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
And Sheridan twenty miles
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
Soon wounded men, stragglers
and wagons were seen headed
from the battle. “Turn back,”
“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
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.
HORSES $4.00
COWS $2.Q0
(of size and condition)
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
"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
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
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
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
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.
Mr. and Mrs. H. O. Hilty spent
Sunday with Mr. and Mrs. Robert
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
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
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.

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