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Updated: June 4, 2025
Thereafter, on arrival of other missionaries, were locations at Savoia and Savoietta. It should be explained that these names, pronounced as they stand, are rough-hewn renditions of the Spanish words cebolla, "onion," and cebolleta, "little onion." Nathan C. Tenney and sons were among the colonists of 1878.
When he spoke, it was more to himself than to her, but conclusively: "The man's a beast." "No, he ain't," said she indignantly. "Baby's light complected. You see he is. An' I'm dark an' so's Mr. Tenney. An' I told him I told him about me before we were married, an' he thought he could stand it then. But we went over to the county fair an' he see him.
She never felt certain, he concluded, whether her peril might not be upon her. But he had a sense of present security. He had seen Tenney disappearing inside the fringe of woods. "Let me come in," he said quietly. "I want to talk to you. It's cold for you out here." She moved aside and he followed her to the kitchen. The room was steaming with warmth, the smell of apple sauce and a boiling ham.
Martin, his surprised look at Nan changing to a ready gallantry, got up at once. "Anything," said he, "to oblige a lady." Nan sat down and Raven and Martin took the seats by the door. There, too, Martin had advantage of a sort. He could stare down Tenney at short range, and this he did with a broad smile. Tenney, Raven concluded, was down and out. His comb was cut.
The printing done, a missionary party was started southward September 10, 1875, from Nephi, Utah, its members being, besides Jones, J.Z. Stewart, Helaman Pratt, Wiley C. Jones, a son of the leader, R.H. Smith, Ammon M. Tenney and A.W. Ivins. The journey was on horseback, by way of Lee's Ferry and the Hopi Indian villages and thence to the southwest. At Pine Springs, in the Mogollons, were met Dr.
Andrew Eliot wrote in 1735, "'Tis surprising what prodigious sums are expended for spirituous liquors in this one poor Province more than a million of our old currency in a year." Dr. Tenney lamented that the taverns of Exeter, N. H., were thronged with people who seldom retired sober.
Yes, he was different, not paler, nor, as she had seen him, aflame in a livid way, but different. "Isr'el," she said, "I never knew 'Gene Martin was goin' to stop here. I knew no more'n the dead." "Was that him?" asked Tenney indifferently. "I see somebody stopped. I thought mebbe 'twas the butcher. Then I remembered he comes of a Wednesday." That settled it in her mind.
When her eyes were like that, Dick's heart was as water. "I was thinking about Tira." He had to place this. Who was Tira? "Oh," said he, "the Tenney woman. Jack needn't have dragged you into that. It's a dirty country story." "Not dirty," said Nan. "You'd love it if you'd thought of it yourself. You'd write a play about it." Dick frowned.
It did not seem possible that a woman's warm heart was beating inside there, Tira's heart, home of loves unquenchable. He put his hand down under the stone. The key was there, and rising, he felt his mind heavy with reproaches of her. She had gone back to Tenney. The night's work was undone.
Raven, scrutinizing him as he approached, determined to know something more than he had caught from those preoccupied minutes in the woods. How, if he had his pen in hand, would he describe Israel Tenney for one of the folk tales Anne had so persistently urged him to? A thin, tall man with narrow shoulders and yet somehow giving an impression of great wiry strength.
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