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Updated: May 8, 2025
Genevieve, one time, and you and Father went over into Missouri, hunting turkeys." "Remember you?" he exclaimed. "Why you of course! Mrs. Carline Nelia Crele!" She met his questioning gaze unflinchingly. "I know I can trust you," she said, simply. "If you'd known Gus Carline!" "I knew his father," Brankeau said. "I reckon as faithless a scoundrel as ever lived.
Landing against the bank just above the ferry, she walked over to Cairo and sought for a man who had hired her father to help him hunt for wild turkeys. He was a banker, and would certainly be the right kind of a man to help her, if he would. "Mr. Brankeau," she addressed him in his office, "I don't know if you remember me, but you came hunting to the River Bottoms below St.
"Thank you, Mr. Brankeau," she said, and turned to leave. "Where are you stopping?" he asked. "I'm a shanty-boater." "You mean it? Not alone?" "Yes," she admitted. "I wish I were twenty years younger," he mourned. "Do you, why?" she looked at him, and, turning, fled.
Brankeau exclaimed, astonished at the paper Carline had signed. "He was that white," she replied, her eyes narrowing. Brankeau from the wideness of his experience, laughed. She, an instant later, laughed, too. "So you settled the question between you?" he suggested, "I thought from the newspapers he hadn't suspicioned this paper um-m!" "It's not a forgery, Mr. Brankeau," she assured him.
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