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Updated: May 16, 2025
Well, Phil was strolling around until nearly morning with Lettie Conlow, and they met this young man somewhere. He doesn't live about here. And, Marjie, right before Lettie, Phil gave him an awful beating and made him promise never to show himself in Springvale again. You know Judge Baronet could do anything in that court-room he wants to. He is a fine man. How your father loved him!
Marjie was in the buggy beside me when I stopped at the courthouse for instructions. Lettie Conlow was passing and came to the buggy's side. "Where are you going, Marjie?" she asked. There was a sullen minor tone in her voice. "With Phil, out somewhere. Where is it you are going, Phil?" I was tying the ponies. They never learned how to stand unanchored a minute.
As we passed this point we did not notice Tell Mapleson's black pony just making the top from the sidling bluff way, nor how quickly its rider wheeled and headed back again down beyond sight of the level prairie road. We had forgotten Lettie Conlow and everybody else. The draw was the same old verdant ripple in the surface of the Plains. The grasses were fresh and green.
If you have anything more to say, say it quick." Lettie was furious now, but the Conlow blood is not courageous, and she only ground her teeth and muttered: "Always the same. Nobody dares to say a word against her. What makes some folks so precious, I wonder? There's Phil Baronet, now, the biggest swindle in this town. Oh, I could tell you a lot about him. I'll do it some day, too.
She's the only girl that can ride Tell Mapleson's pony, and only O'mie and Tell and I among the boys can ride him. And she killed the big rattlesnake that nearly had Jim Conlow, killed it with a hoe. And she can climb where no other girl dares to, on the bluff below town toward the Hermit's Cave. But she's just as 'fraid of an Injun! I went to hunt him, though." "And you did just right, Phil.
O'mie and I also succeeded in learning that trick; Tell Mapleson broke a collar-bone, attempting it; and Jim Conlow, as O'mie said, "knocked the 'possum' aff his mug thryin' to achave the art." He fractured the bones of his nose, making his face a degree more homely than it was before. Then there were the Mead boys to be counted on everywhere.
Louis might not entrap him; for James Conlow, whose lines had led him away from us; for David Mead, going soon to the far-away lands where the Sierras dip down the golden slope to the Pacific seas; for August Anderson, also about to go away from us, that life and health might be his; and last of all for Philip Baronet. A deeper hush fell upon the company bowed in prayer.
When we were clear of town, and the open plain swept by the summer breezes gave freedom from the heat, Marjie asked: "Where is Lettie Conlow going on such a hot afternoon?" "Nowhere, is she? She was talking to you at the courthouse."
They're promisin' him somethin', the strangers air. Tell an' Conlow seemed to kind o' dissent, but give in finally." "Is it whiskey?" asked the priest. "No, no. Tell says he can't have nothin' from the 'Last Chance. Says the old Roman Catholic'll fix his agency job at Washington if he lets Jean get drunk. It's somethin' else; an' Tell wants to git aven with you, so he gives in."
Fortune favored O'mie's inquisition scheme. Judson had hardly left the store when Lettie Conlow walked in. Evidently Judson's company on the Sunday evening before had given her a purpose in coming. In our play as children Lettie was the first to "get mad and call names." In her young womanhood she was vindictive and passionate. "Good-afternoon, Lettie.
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