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Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"

No good telling her it's nerve not body
that he ain't got."
The mountain man looked back toward the pathway between the slashed and
broken bushes. He could see Susan's solitary figure, David's horse
following.
"What's _she_ mind for?" he said.
"Because she's a woman and they're made that way. She's more set on
that chump than she'd be on the finest man you could bring her if you
hunted the world over for him."
They fared on in silence, the soft soil muffling their steps. The
wagon lurched on a hummock and David groaned.
"Are you meaning she cares for him?" asked Courant.
"All her might," answered the old man. "Ain't she goin' to marry the
varmint?"
It was an hour for understanding, no matter how bitter. Daddy John's
own dejection made him unsparing. He offered his next words as
confirmation of a condition that he thought would kill all hope in the
heart of the leader.
"Last night he made her get him water--the store we had left if you
hadn't found any. Twict in the night while I was asleep she took and
gave it to him. Then when I found it out she let me think she took it
for herself," he spat despondently.


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