My Dear Miss Wood: I am sorry about this. My plan was different. It was
to get over for a ride with you about now or sooner. This year Spring is
early. The snow is off the flats this side the range and where the
sun gets a chance to hit the earth strong all day it is green and has
flowers too, a good many. You can see them bob and mix together in the
wind. The quaking-asps down low on the South side are in small leaf and
will soon be twinkling like the flowers do now. I had planned to take a
look at this with you and that was a better plan than what I have got to
do. The water is high but I could have got over and as for the snow on
top of the mountain a man told me nobody could cross it for a week yet,
because he had just done it himself. Was not he a funny man? You ought
to see how the birds have streamed across the sky while Spring was
coming. But you have seen them on your side of the mountain. But I can’t
come now Miss Wood. There is a lot for me to do that has to be done and
Judge Henry needs more than two eyes just now. I could not think much of
myself if I left him for my own wishes.
But the days will be warmer when I come. We will not have to quit by
five, and we can get off and sit too. We could not sit now unless for a
very short while. If I know when I can come I will try to let you know,
but I think it will be this way. I think you will just see me coming for
I have things to do of an unsure nature and a good number of such. Do
not believe reports about Indians. They are started by editors to keep
the soldiers in the country. The friends of the editors get the hay and
beef contracts. Indians do not come to settled parts like Bear Creek is.
It is all editors and politicianists.
Nothing has happened worth telling you. I have read that play Othello.
No man should write down such a thing. Do you know if it is true? I have
seen one worse affair down in Arizona. He killed his little child as
well as his wife but such things should not be put down in fine language
for the public. I have read Romeo and Juliet. That is beautiful language
but Romeo is no man. I like his friend Mercutio that gets killed. He
is a man. If he had got Juliet there would have been no foolishness and
trouble.
Well Miss Wood I would like to see you to-day. Do you know what I think
Monte would do if I rode him out and let the rein slack? He would come
straight to your gate for he is a horse of great judgement. (“That’s the
first word he has misspelled,” said Molly.) I suppose you are sitting
with George Taylor and those children right now. Then George will get
old enough to help his father but Uncle Hewie’s twins will be ready for
you about then and the supply will keep coming from all quarters all
sizes for you to say big A little a to them. There is no news here. Only
calves and cows and the hens are laying now which does always seem news
to a hen every time she does it. Did I ever tell you about a hen Emily
we had here? She was venturesome to an extent I have not seen in other
hens only she had poor judgement and would make no family ties. She
would keep trying to get interest in the ties of others taking charge
of little chicks and bantams and turkeys and puppies one time, and she
thought most anything was an egg. I will tell you about her sometime.
She died without family ties one day while I was building a house for
her to teach school in. (“The outrageous wretch!” cried Molly! And her
cheeks turned deep pink as she sat alone with her lover’s letter.)
I am coming the first day I am free. I will be a hundred miles from you
most of the time when I am not more but I will ride a hundred miles for
one hour and Monte is up to that. After never seeing you for so long I
will make one hour do if I have to. Here is a flower I have just been
out and picked. I have kissed it now. That is the best I can do yet.
Molly laid the letter in her lap and looked at the flower. Then suddenly
she jumped up and pressed it to her lips, and after a long moment held
it away from her.
“No,” she said. “No, no, no.” She sat down.
It was some time before she finished the letter. Then once more she got
up and put on her hat.
Mrs. Taylor wondered where the girl could be walking so fast. But she
was not walking anywhere, and in half an hour she returned, rosy with
her swift exercise, but with a spirit as perturbed as when she had set
out.
Next morning at six, when she looked out of her window, there was Monte
tied to the Taylor’s gate. Ah, could he have come the day before, could
she have found him when she returned from that swift walk of hers!