Girls High School - Yearbook (Reading, PA)

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Wyoming and 1 Bessie M. DEETER CHAPTER 1 IT WAS MIDNIGHT. Fritzo, German police dog, crept from his kennel, crept stealthily along through the blinding snow, gaining a sure position under his mistress' window. There he sat, keeping a long vigil through the night, growling low at the soft shadows dancing over the white expanse. Dawn Z--Fritzo was gone-to the white, frozen Bad Lands, to Crow Creek, to the Mountains, who knows? Dawn! yes, dawn, but only in name. The snow fell light and thick, gain- ing time on the sun. At 10 o'clock the sun tried to appear, but what could appear in such a storm? A storm shutting from view all signs of life or nature-and who knows?-shutting under its wing all signs of crime and suffering. The wi11d blew, tossing the ice-covered branches of pine, blowing into drifts the fast falling snow, only to re-scatter it and blow it into larger drifts. In this hail, snow and driving wind, night settled about 3 p. m. Dawn! Another day! The storm had ceased as suddenly as it had started and the sun ruled the skies once more. Everywhere, east, west, north, south-snow-trees breaking with their burden, corrals shaping into snow houses, stables looking like icebergs and Mr. Weathercock covered from view. Certainly a fitting scene for Whittier's Snowbound. Lucy, Lucy! where in the land sakes is that child, that poor child? Something dreadful must have happened. I feel it in my bones. They all ache so bad. The weather and Lucy were affecting Mrs. Dumph. After hunting all over the house without finding Lucy, and after the confinement during the storm, it was certainly hard on her bones. Clip-clop, clip-clop, the sound of horses' hoofs sounded outside as they struck the snow. Immediately after, thump-thump, at the door. Mrs. Dumph ran hurriedly to the door, expecting, probably, to see Lucy, but-- Morning! Is Colonel Connely at home? I have some very 'erf-import- ant business-hum. I am sorry to disturb him, but it's got to be. Sheriff Conway seemed rather disturbed and turning to his associates conyersed with them in whispers. Mrs. Dumph's mouth dropped wide open. The sheriff for Colonel Con- nely on important business! Hurriedly she entered the lounging room and touched a button. Colonel Connely came slowly down the steps and entered the hall. He was a man of about 60 years, proudly owning a thick crop of white hair. A person with any insight, at his first glance, could read the Colonel's sweet temperament in his face. Conway, how do you do? This is an unexpected pleasure on such a morning. Come in and have something warm. You must be cold, yes, frozen, coming through such banks of snow. Colonel Connely seemed in high spir- its and even light-hearted this morning. H-m-a- I am sorry, Colonel, but-ah-you see I am afraid this ain't a friendly visit. I have some news, but I want more and I think you can give me what I want, replied the sheriff, looking Connely steadily in the eye. I am sorry I am not honored with a friendly visit, and I will most as- suredly give you any information I am capable of. The Colonel spoke slowly and the smile vanished from his face. I hope the news is not un- pleasantf' , It's this way, Connelyf, the sheriff was now plainly excited, on the night of the fifth, that was the tirst night of the storm, Pete Sted was found dead, killed with his own knife just outside of Clark, along Crow Creek. He was 6

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still warm when joe Faner, passing by, almost fell over him. In less than ten minutes Hell would be frozen in that storm, but Pete was still warm. There were hoof prints in the snow leading toward here and they were made just before Joe got there. When he had Pete on the back of the horse the hoof prints were covered, but Joe said they were not made by any horse in Clark for they were too large. They were the hoofs of a thoroughbred, and they headed for here. Now Colonel, in that storm no one could get far and your house was the only one for several miles. There were tracks leading away from here in the direction of Crow Creek, made this morning directly after the storm. The hoof prints is large and made by a thoroughbred. Two of my men are following them. Colonel, it will be much easier for you if you will tell us all you know and the truth. Pete! Pete Sted! murdered and the murderer headed towards this ranch? Sheriff, my word no one has been in here in that time. No one! Think, Colonel, no one? Colonel, not even Lucy?!' The sheriff leaning forward, almost whispered the words, Not even Lucy? Lucy! man! whatdo you mean? Lucy, my daughter? I mean this, Colonel. Your daughter is the owner of the only thorough- bred in this section. Your daughter was seen, not long before the murder, headed toward Crow Creek and we all have seen your daughter wear these gloves many times. He was growing more excited, talking rapidly, and get- ting red-faced, These were found clutched in the dead man's hand, he said, holding up a pair of gray gauntlets. Damn you! horse or no horse, gloves or no gloves, Lucy is innocent, I will prove it to you, wait! He left the room hurriedly and called Mrs. Dumph. Mrs, Dumph, call Lucy immediately. Hurry, but tell her not to be frightened. Bless me, Colonel, but Lucy is nowhere to be seen and some of her clothes is gone. Oh! Colonel, what could be the matter ? Gone! My Lucy, but no, she is innocent, she can't be the-oh! Colonel Connely staggered into the room. She is not in the house, but she often rides in the morning, sheriff. You must not think that Lucy ran away, for Lucy is not a coward. But she is innocent, you must see she is innocent. Lucy would rather kill herself than any other person. You know her, sher- iff. She brings good cheer to Clark, she visits the poor and sick, she helps people in trouble, she is good and kind to all. Do you think such a girl with such a heart could murder, destroy, kill that which her God put on this earth? Oh! Conway, Conway, you know her, you know what I say is true, you know she didn't do it, Conway, you do! Colonel Connely was plainly sobbing. He was pleading, not for his own life, but for a life far clearer to him. The sheriff cleared his throat. Connely, here's my hand. lVe must trace those tracks to prove who the murderer is. I pray God it isn't Lucy, but duty is duty and I must go. I will trace these tracks to prove Lucy is not the murderer. At the end of the trail I hope to find the murderer. but not Lucy. Look! One of my men returning from the trail. Doggedly plowing through the drift, the rider reached the house. Is Sheriff Conway in thar? Conway ran to the door. Ujoe, what news? The tracks lead to the hills. The horse does not travel fast for he car- ries a heavy load. too heavy to be caused by a girl. but I found this near the foot of the hills. He held up a gray scarf, always worn by Lucy when riding in winter. On it was a drop of blood. Turning to Colonel Connely, Conway muttered: 'AI would rather go to the gallows, but I have no choice. Joe, call out the posse. we will ride for the hills. CHAPTER II At sunset the forest seemed steeled in white. The trees, hanging low with their great weight, made it difhcult for the passage of a lone horse-- carrying a double load. The coal black horse, thoroughbred beauty that he lContinued on page 271 7