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Updated: October 16, 2025
What if Hannah had found the sheet of paper, trimmed just as it is, and used it without any thought of the suspicions it would occasion!" "Ah!" said he, "that is just what we are going to find out." Mrs. Belden was in a flutter of impatience when I entered the sitting-room. When did I think the coroner would come? and what did I imagine this detective would do for us?
A glance at Ross and he changed his mind; for, Ross was so amazed at Adelaide's thus challenging him it could be nothing more than an audacious challenge that he showed it. "I beg your pardon, old man," Belden said impulsively. "I didn't appreciate that I was making a prying brute of myself."
I found myself in a large bedroom, evidently the one occupied by Mrs. Belden the night before. Barely stopping to note certain evidences of her having passed a restless night, I passed on to the door leading into the room marked with a cross in the plan drawn for me by Q. It was a rough affair, made of pine boards rudely painted. Pausing before it, I listened. All was still.
Lying there in the shelter of her tent, the whole situation seemed simple, innocent, and poetic; but looked at from the standpoint of Clifford Belden it held an accusation. "It cannot be helped," he said. "The only thing we can do is to conceal the fact that we spent the night beneath this tent alone."
He had not been able to attend on this particular occasion, but his son had come with a delegation from the county town, twenty miles away, to represent his interests. On Mr. William Belden devolved the task of introducing the visitors; a most congenial one, he suddenly found it to be.
Her sleeves, rolled to the elbow, disclosed shapely brown arms, and her neck, bare to her bosom, was equally sun-smit; but she was so round-cheeked, so childishly charming, that the most critical observer could find no fault with her make-up. One of the men rode up. "Hello, Norcross. What are you doing over here?" The youth smiled blandly. "Good morning, Mr. Belden. I'm serving my apprenticeship.
Belden softened more and more, joining in the conversation with an ease hardly to be expected from one in her humble circumstances. Indeed, I soon saw she was no common woman. There was a refinement in her speech and manner, which, combined with her motherly presence and gentle air, was very pleasing.
The following story was told many years ago by George P. Belden, and it is the second instance of Indian elopement that has come under the observation of the authors of this book. It occurred some time in the early '40's. The Ogallallas and Brules were once the most powerful tribes on the plains, and were particularly friendly. The chief of the Brules was an old and experienced warrior.
One fall we had a county election, and among the candidates for office was our townsman, H.M. Moore, from whom Moore's Flat secured its name. He was the Democratic nominee for County Judge, and on the other side was David Belden, he whom Santa Clara County felt proud to honor as its Superior Judge, and when death claimed him, never was man more sincerely mourned by every citizen.
"Sure thing," she called out. "Slide down and come in." Moore removed his hat and bowed. "Good morning, Miss McFarlane, I didn't know you were here. You know my daughter Siona?" Berrie nodded coldly. "I've met her." He indicated the other woman. "And Mrs. Belden, of course, you know." Mrs.
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