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Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"


"You can't. You can't do it. It's a temporary thing. It's the desert
and the wildness and because he could ride and get water and find the
trail. In California it will be different. Out there it'll be the
same as it used to be back in the States. You'll think of this as
something unreal that never happened and your feeling for him--it'll
all go. When we get where it's civilized you'll be like you were when
we started. You couldn't have loved a savage like that then. Well,
you won't when you get where you belong. It's horrible. It's
unnatural."
She shook her head, glanced at him and glanced away. The sweat was
pouring off his face and his lips quivered like a weeping child's.
"Oh, David," she said with a deep breath like a groan, "_this_ is
natural for me. The other was not."
"You don't know what you're saying. And how about your promise? _You_
gave that of your own free will. Was it a thing you give and take back
whenever you please? What would your father think of your breaking
your word--throwing me off for a man no better than a half-blood
Indian? Is that your honor?" Then he was suddenly fearful that he had
said too much and hurt his case, and he dropped to a wild pleading:
"Oh, Susan, you can't, you can't.


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