Prev | Current Page 293 | Next

Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"


"Oh, David," she said, gurgling at the memory. "Did _you_ know that?
I curled it for three nights on bits of paper that I tore out of the
back of father's diary. And now I don't care what it looks like. See
how I've changed!"
And she leaned against him, holding the arm and laughing at her past
frivolity. His eyes slid back to the horses, but he did not see them.
With a slight, listening smile he gave himself up to the intoxication
of the moment, feeling the pressure of her body soft against his arm.
The reins which hung loose suddenly jerked through his fingers and the
mare fell crashing to her knees. She was down before he knew it, head
forward, and then with a quivering subsidence, prone in a tangle of
torn harness. He urged her up with a jerked rein, she made a
struggling effort, but fell back, and a groan, singularly human in its
pain, burst from her. The wagon behind pounded almost on them, the
mules crowding against each other. Daddy John's voice rising in a
cracked hail. Courant and Leff came up from the rear, splashing
through the river.
"What's happened?" said the former.


Pages:
281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305
brak hosta system wymiany linkow niezarejestrowana strona sprawdz strone niezarejestrowana strona