Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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was queen there. The father was still in the mountains, working with Ins men at the saw mill. He would return in a few weeks. The visitor never entered the house; never even went higher than the second of the few steps on the front porch. Two weeks later, when the sun had just set, and a cool breeze was blowing the roses in the little garden, Ethel sat beside the man on the step. For about five minutes not a word was spoken. A bird fluttered to the ground near them and then flew up with a thread in his bill to a tree by the little white gate. Then the rider, no longer a stranger, looked at the golden head near him. Then he looked into two dark blue eyes that were turned immediately on his. Then he spoke— “Ethel, I’m getting in so deep, and it isn’t fair to you. You don’t know who 1 am or what I’m doing here. That evening that you would not tell me your last name unless I told you mine—well, 1 had a real reason. I’ll have to tell you some time and if you reject me on that ac¬ count—well, I don’t know what on earth I’ll do, but I must tell you anyway, so here goes’’— “Now you wait until 1 tell you something” the girl cut in quickly. “There is something I have to tell you first, and maybe you will be the one to change your mind about this,” and without waiting for another word she began: “Mv father did a great wrong when I was a baby. Still I can hardly blame him. A man, long before my father married mother, was an old sweetheart of hers. Mother told me how deeply in love those two were—he and mother. Then they were parted in their youth and they forgot during several years. Then when I was a baby this man met mother again. It all came back to them again, the love of some years back. Mother became discontented, and knowing that Walters was already married, and had been for several years, just seemed to lose her life in the thoughts of her past and her shattered future. She became thinner and so ill that she could not get out of her bed. Father stayed by her day and night until she was stronger. He was almost insane. One night he left with a gun and his saddle horse. He met Walters at his cabin door and shot him outright, Walters died a few hours later, telling his little son to avenge his death. Then my heartbroken mother lived, or rather existed, for eleven years longer. One night she was found dead in the river ove” there. I)an was only one year old. That’s all. I have raised Dan and kept house for father ever since. Now, if you can consider the daughter of a murderer, you are doing more than most men would.” PAGE 16

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“Say, boy, do you know where I can get room and board for awhile! ” ‘Gee, I sure wish we could give it to you, but our house is so little now that Sis hasn’t enough room,” was the reply, followed by a deep sign. “Say, pard,” he drew the name out unfamiliarly— “That’s right, kid. I’m your Pard.” “I’ll tell you,” he continued. “Mrs. Valade has a room and she only lives two doors from us. The guy that lived tnere got killed in a tight on the range about a week back and he said he’d leave his room to the next stranger that hit this town. Old Colonel’s son killed him.” “Great; lead me to it.” A few hours later “P,ard” was settled. The boy was there doing little favors to help his new friend. “Well, kid, we’re done,” and the rider sat down on the edge of his bed. The boy sat down on his roll of blankets and they looked at each other for a moment. Then, for the first time, the man analyzed the fine features of the child. Big, blue eyes; golden, curly hair; rosy, rounded lips and a fair complexion. “H’m; did you say something about a sister!” he asked slowly of the lad. “Yes, Sis is older than 1 am, lots older, and she is so good to me.” Then his face brightened and he .added, smiling: “Gee, but she hates to see me fight, though.” Next day little Dan was up to see the stranger. “Gee, but it’s lonesome down at our house, Pard. Won’t you come down?” This question greeted “Pard” as soon as he .appeared on the scene. The rider was the kind who never went where he wasn’t invited, un¬ less he had to, but this time he had to, and anyhow Dan had invited him. He must see that sister. He accepted the child’s invitation, and in a few moments was taking long strides toward the white gate, with the boy at his side. The introduction that the child gave the two when they met proved the careful bringing up that his sister was giving him. After a pleasant evening on a neat little porch, the man took his leave. Through little Dan they felt very well acquainted. “Come down whenever you wish,” the girl told him; “you know that you’re welcome.” He took it for granted that he was welcome. Anyway, he did come back, the very next evening. Many an evening was passed there. Evenings were cool and the porch so inviting, especially when Ethel PAGE 15

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The rider was as white as death ,and seemed stunned. He looked straight at her and tears were forming in the eyes of both. “I am Roger Walters, Ethel, the son of the man whom your father murdered. I came here to avenge his death, by killing your father. When I intend to do anything I always do it, but you stand between my vengeance and your father. I can’t kill him.” One evening, as summer was closing, there were four sitting on the porch. A gray-haired man rested his hand on a young, strong shoulder, the shoulder that might have braced the gun tiiat would liave killed him. A curly-headed little boy sat by Roger Walters, while a girl dreamed of a little cottage over the hill. She saw her father and his mother sitting together on its porch, and then the dream faded into the present scene of happiness. Roger commenced to sing: ‘ ‘ From the desert I come to you On a stallion shod with fire”— Ethel took up the song and they sang it together, while her father sighed, then smiled.