Momence High School - Monesse Yearbook (Momence, IL)

Page 19 text:

i8 JUNIOR YEAR ROOK. He had started when he thot that the mail would be in in the morning, and there might be some word from Dollie, though he had not written for months and she was not sure of his ad¬ dress, but still the bare possibility of getting one of Dollie’s letters was worth waiting for. He gave his horse in charge of the stable boy, and walked to the door and entered the room he had left such a short time before. “Hello, Jack, back again?” Called a dark browed man lounging against a table, watching a game of poker. “Have a—and some one watching Jack’s face, nudged him fiercely,—“a game of poker with me,” he asked turning to the fellow who had nudged him, “can’t a fellow ask another fellow to have a quiet game without you putting your elbow in, hey?” Jack shook his head and passed on up stairs to bed where he tossed and turned till time for break¬ fast. After making a hasty toilet, he made his way to the dining room, where a few men sti ll re¬ mained at the tables. To break the silence, one of the men, the express agent, store-keeper and postmaster combined, drawled out. “Say, pard, they’s a letter fer you, came the other day, with orders to hold it if you were here and forward it if you had left. I wasn’t sure so I held it.” Pushing away his plate, Jack rose and followed the post master, perhaps the letter was from Dollie. She had never failed him yet. The man found the letter he sought, he handed it out with the remark, “It was big enough to be a Christmas present, providing it wasn’t a dun.” With a quick throb at his heart, Jack recognized Dollie’s writing. Thrusting the letter in his pocket, he went to the barn, saddled his horse and rode straight toward the sunrise, for he felt he must have no curious eyes watching him as he read her letter. A hot August sun beating down on the tin roofs of Gulch Town and the whizzing song of the locust was the only sound. The streets were deserted with the exception of a pack of dogs lying in the shade of the store, and three horses with drooping head and hanging bridle reins, standing in front of the saloon, waiting for their masters, who had gone to quench their thirst or get greater one. With much laughter and passing of coarse jokes the men came out side, accompanied by the whole male population of the place. “Oh, say,” one of the cow boys exclaimed, turning to the bar tender, who stood in a “heavy villain” attitude in the doorway. “Member that Jack Derwent, who is going to fill the first person with lead that asks him to drink?” “Yep, what of him?” “Well, the foreman of the U. U. is he, with about forty or fifty men under him. And let me tell you, he is a bad man to fool with, so if I have any regard for my car¬ cass, I wouldn’t ask him to drink. See!” When the round August moon rose, the out riders of the U. U. came trooping in town, and the men from Dixon’s trail heard and the a—h outfit scenting fun or scrap, both dear to the soul of the cow puncher, came in as the evening advanced, until the barroom was filled with a reckless turbulent crowd of men, that feared neither God nor the Devil. “They lived with death before their eyes and died with their boots on,” as one of them expressed it. Some one proposed drinks and eager and thirsty they lined to the bar, tossing aside cigar¬ ettes and cigars. One of the men glancing toward the door chuckled. “Say, boys,” he said, with a slow Tex¬ an drawl, “here comes the foreman of the U. U. Ask him to join us?” “Not on your life,” was the quick reply. “I proprose to live awhile longer.” “The man that asks me to drink, dies,” quoted a second. “Oh, shucks! That’s all a bluff, bet the drinks to the crowd, he’ll come like a lamb.” “Ask and see.”

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JUNIOR YEAR BOOK. 17 WAS HE JUSTIFIED? STORY BY BONN IB ELL WE A VER. “And, Dollie, if I make a home tor you and the boy, will you come?” ‘Yes, Jack, have I not followed you north, south and east, when you did not promise, but now you have promised and Jack, your word used to be as good as another man’s bond, why should I not go west, but oh, Jack, don’t fail me, for I feel that this is your last chance, and if you fail this time, you fall forever. “Hush, little woman, we have weathered some pretty squally times together, but please God its over now, and I can see smooth waters and a quiet harbor ahead for us, so don’t be pessimistic, but look on the bright side, and remember, I will keep my promise, or die trying. Good bye, sweetheart, one kiss for yourself and one for the boy, God bless him, may he be a better man than his father, and oh, Dollie, teach him to say no , and keep on saying no , when temptation stands in front, then he will not have to flee as I am doing, but Dollie, little wife, it won’t be for long and you will come and what a pleasant home we’ll have some day! The train is due in just fifteen minutes and I’ll just have time to make it, so be good to yourself— yes I will write as soon as I see what the prospects are.” A rush of cold air, a slam of an outer door, and the crunch of hasty steps on the frozen snow, and for the third time Jack Der¬ went had started out in the world to make a home for the wife and boy; while back in the lit¬ tle house, Dollie, with sad eyes and pale face, moved silently, straightening a chair, picking up some of Jack’s discarded clothes and swiftly removing all traces of his presence, and she felt as though he had passed from her side for always, well knowing, that where he went, there went also, his besetting sin, and his eagerness to get away was that craving for a change and excitement only possessed by those cursed with the “wandering heel,” and doubly inten¬ sified by his frequent lapses in that little village where the saloons outnumber the churches six to one. “Boys, this is my last drink, and I mean it. Back in God’s country I’ve a wife and boy waiting for me to make a home for them, and a year ago I promised her, (my little Dollie,) to let this stuff alone, and I meant it then, but I trusted in my own strength, and fell after keep¬ ing my word six months “Do you know how I came to lose my grip?” “Love for the red¬ eye,” suggested one. “Got lonesome from home and kid,” hazarded another. “You are away off, both of you,” he said contemptuously, and turning from the bar in a sudden fury, his somber eyes sweeping the crowd that surrounded him, he thundered, “No! it was neither, tho God knows with the longing for them and the curse in my blood my life was a hell, but I would have conquered, if you had left me alone, but this treating, this forcing a man to drink, or be branded as a coward, led to my undoing, and I tell you now,” reaching round and touching a forty-four at his belt, “the first man that asks me to take a drink with him, dies. Now, remember, I’ve warned you,” and while they stared at him in open mouthed astonishment, he shouldered his way through the crowd and in a moment was out under the stars; throwing back his head, he drew in a long breath of pure night air that seemed doubly pure after the tainted atmosphere he had been breathing. Somewhere a shrill voiced clock struck the hour. He paused in his walk and muttered, “eleven o’clock and the 24 th of De¬ cember. Just a year since Dollie and I filled the kid’s stocking. Oh, Dollie, Dollie, when shall I see you and the boy again? Grant it may be soon.

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♦JUNIOR YEAR ROOK. 19 its your treat then,” and lounging out of the door, the Texan proceeded toward Hk :ce where Jack had just dismounted. “ir Pard,” he called, “its my treat, come over and have one with me.” j;a : rned slowly, his face set and his eyes gleaming somberly from the heavy brows. E mean that,” he asked. ‘ said the other, his hand shifting easily to his hip. you dog, take that.” A puff of smoke, a flash and two shots rang out together. J i : stood there, a grim smile on his face, a clean cut hole in his hat, watching the Texan » half turned and fell a huddled heap in the dust. ” ere was a sudden rush from the saloon and in an instant the two were surrounded by a c v e of angry men. s ’ said one, “this is murder.” “Aye, but he was warned,” muttered a man on the out- ssi :s Jack stood, the still smoking revolver in his hand and said, “I gave you all warning a : am ready to take the consequences.” ard said the post master, “you had no reason.” “ r eason! man!” turning fiercely upon him. “Read that and tell me if 1 was not justified.” 1 :h a swift gesture he thrust a worn letter, the letter he had given him a long before, into 5 hand. Yes, read it,” murmured the crowd, as they pushed close. Unfolding the letter, the post ister began:—“For months I have heard nothing from you, and now I write again at your d address. Again you have tailed. Oh, Jack, how could you, after promising so faithfully : eep from the cursed stuff, and Jack, my heart is broken, for our baby boy is dead. Died ecause I could not get medicine and food and fire for him, and you were the cause. You! 1 ! May God forgive you for I never can, and I pray you may suffer as you have made us 5 ffer. God helping me I will never look on your face again. Remember that you have giv- en up all a man holds most dear, wife, home and child, for that cursed stuff.”— He paused and looked around, a hoarse murmur arose, and the crowd parted leaving a lane, down which Jack walked to where his horse was standing, and vaulting lightly into the sad¬ dle, rode slowly away toward the fast darkening foot hills.