While Angella did her chores in the morning,
Jake looked after Nettie's laughing, fair-haired
baby. The breed adored the child, and the
hours he spent playing with him were the happiest
of his life. Angella had built a small "yard" for the
baby to play in safely while Jake, on his hands and
knees, would play "cat and dog" outside the railings,
to the baby's unbounded delight.
He had grown into a beautiful child, with his mother's
fair skin and blue eyes, and his blonde hair curled
in tiny ringlets all over his small, round head. He was
the soul of good humor, and though not robust, his
health was rapidly improving.
Life had assumed a new meaning for the woman
recluse and the change was reflected in her expression.
The defiant look was almost gone from the bright eyes,
the lips were no longer bitterly compressed; with a
faint color in her cheeks, and her soft gray hair curling
about her face, Angella Loring was almost beautiful,
as she held the baby close in her arms, and
murmured foolish endearments over it.
By the time she finished her milking and chores in
the early morning, the baby would be awake, and as
soon as she came into the house, he would set up a loud
demand for bath and food. Before either Jake or
Angella breakfasted, he must first be cared for. Satisfied,
rosy and clean, he would then be put in his "yard,"
to tumble happily about among his favorite "toys,"
the clothes pins and empty thread spools, which he
rolled around the yard in high glee, or sucked and
chewed upon with relish.
One morning in March Angella's chores took longer
than usual. As hard as she pumped, the water froze
before it could fall from the spout, and the barn was
full of stock, which had come up from the frozen pastures
to the shelter of the sheds. There were twenty
or thirty head waiting hungrily for their share of the
feed and water, which was generally reserved for the
special milking stock and weak stuff interned in the
barn. Angella worked hard and valiantly, driving back
the greedy steers, and rescuing a half frozen calf, which
barely escaped death under the scampering heels.
Upon examining the little creature, she saw that if
its life was to be saved she would have to take it to
some warmer place than the barn. Throwing together
a rough sled made out of a couple of boards, she
managed to shove it underneath the motionless animal,
and pull the litter with a lariat over the frozen
ground to the house.
Jake did not answer her calls to open the door and
she had to push it open herself, letting in an icy gust
of wind. She tugged and pulled at the sled till it
slid into the kitchen, and at last deposited the calf
in front of the roaring fire. Breathing heavily from
the exertion and holding her sides, she leaned against
the table, and suddenly caught sight of Jake lying face
downward on the floor. Her first thought was that it
was an attack of his periodical convulsions, but a moment
later she saw the empty "yard" as well. Her
senses reeled; it seemed as though the whole room began
to swim around her, as slowly her knees gave way, and
for the first time in her life Angella Loring fainted.
But it was only for a moment; she came back to consciousness
almost at once and crawled on her knees
to where Jake, now moaning and moving his head, still
lay stretched upon the floor. His contorted face was
horribly bruised and deathly pale, and when he opened
his eyes the blood ran out of them. She saw then that
Jake had been struck down and beaten.
"Him! Him!" gibbered the breed.
"Jake, what has happened? Where's the baby?
Oh-h!"
"Bobby--all--a--gone. Him--the Bull take a baby!
Him gone away."
Again the universe began to spin about her, but she
refused to faint a second time. Feeling her way to the
door, Angella Loring went out again into the bitter
cold to the barn, where the mare with her new colt
whinnied as she slipped the stock saddle across its back.
She trapped the colt in an adjoining stall, and then
as she got on the mare's back, she whispered:
"Go quickly, Daisy, or you'll not get back to your
baby soon."
There was a long snorting whinny from Daisy--a
cry of protest at being taken from her colt--indignantly
answered by the little one.
The nearest telephone was five miles from Angella's
ranch, and when she rode into the farm yard, in spite
of the intense cold, the mare was sweating from her
wild race across the country. The astonished farmer
who led Angella to the 'phone--it was the first time
she had been known to step inside any of their houses--stayed
by the door and listened with pricked-up ears
as the excited woman called Dr. McDermott at Springbank.
By a merciful chance he was there, and a few
moments later the farmer was helping his strange visitor
to a seat, and calling loudly to his wife for help.
For again Angella Loring had fainted. Her first question
when she opened her eyes and looked up at her
neighbors' faces was:
"Has he come? Has Dr. McDermott come?"
And when they replied that he had not, she wrung
her hands and broke into weak tears.