British -- United States -- Fiction; Epistolary fiction; Married women -- Fiction; Voyages and travels -- Fiction
And presently he began to make a little money and would contrive to
give her small things for the house; it gave her more pleasure than
anything in the world to make it pretty, so that the little shed was
the admiration of all the other miners' wives. And once he was able to
buy some flower seeds, and she grew a pansy in a pot because there is
no green thing in that barren land, and she tended it and watched it as
it came through the earth, and no one was so joyous as she. "It hurts
me to look at pansies even now," he said; and I was glad, Mamma, it was
getting dark, because I felt the tears coming in my eyes. They were
perfectly happy like this for about three years, and then Lola was born
and they were happier still; but before that she used to take him up on
the mountains, above their shack, to look down at the camps, and watch
the stars, and she always used to see things in the future--how they
would be very rich, and he would be a great man. "And this is where
blood tells," he said. "She was nothing but the love-child of some
young English lord, drifted out to our land with her servant-girl
mother. And she'd spent all her life in gambling hells among rogues,
but her soul was the daintiest lady angel that ever walked this earth,
though she could hardly read or write, and all the stars were her
friends, and even a rattlesnake wouldn't have wounded her." Mustn't she
have been a darling, Mamma? She had hair like gold, and little ears,
pink as sea shells, and big blue eyes and a flower for a mouth. No
wonder he loved her so. He said her baby was even more pleasure to her
than the pansy had been, and they both were "just kind of foolish over
it." Well, when Lola was about three months old a gang of desperadoes
came to the camp, and among them the man the Senator had wounded for
his wife. Before the Senator came in from the mine Hearts-ease heard
the other miners' wives talking of this, and how this man had boasted
he would kill him. She knew her husband was unarmed, having left his
gun behind him that day because his second one was broken, and he would
not leave her with none in the shack; quite unsuspiciously he returned
with his comrades, and went into a bar to have a drink on his way back,
as he often did to hear the news of the day. And when Hearts-ease could
not find him on the road, she ran down there, carrying the gun and the
baby, to warn him and give him his weapon, and got into the saloon just
as the desperado and his following entered by another door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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