Thank you for correcting the text in this article. Your corrections improve Papers Past searches for everyone. See the latest corrections.

This article contains searchable text which was automatically generated and may contain errors. Join the community and correct any errors you spot to help us improve Papers Past.

Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image
Article image

A WOMAN'S PERIL.

Fort Linuoln, rSmhiua, Vejjar Co., Texas, April 2nd, 1870. Deat Elsie ; 1 ventured to siiwo.-ft :> year ago to our respected sister, Lavinia, that it would do you no lwirm, and some others a groat deal of good, if you spent :i summer with mo. You remombor the answer ? You wore delicate, Texas w.is the land of chills, and I was not a fit person to ba gnardi'in of so irrepressible a subject as ray small, but obstreperous j sister. What you wished did not appea' - until it was too late, so ray plans were ruthlessly crushed and Lavinia triumphed. This timo I write to you, not Livinia. You aro nineteen, ray doar, and if an American woman is over goins* to have her own way, she begins at nineteen. Will you coma this year ? And will yon corao at onco ? The wife wants you ; I want you, and as for the boy, to sea Aunt Elsia is tho dearest wish of his heart. I do not expect a favorablo reply. I havo too much respect for tho power of Livinia's will and authority. Yet this letter shall go. Your loving brother, Addison Wynne. P. S.—lf you can defy the powers that be, writo at once, so that I may meet you at Santana. The cars will carry you there. I will come us far as Hobart Junction if I cau. Aro you afraid of the journey ? A. W. Would Igo 1 Cf course I would. Lavinia was shocked at the idea, of course, but I went. I sent word, as I was told, the next day, and two weeks later I was rolling out of the B. B. <fc Q. railway speeding westwards, fairly embarked upon a journey of five days and live nights on the cars, and a thirty-mile drive after that. It was a long journey to take alone, but there was no one to go with me, and I was not a child, and had an average allowance of wits.

How I was watched and cared for and waited upon by the railway officials. Conductors of trains bave faults, 1 siuppose, but they were good tome. They got my tickets; they told tiiu where to change ; they brought mo codec ; and until I gut to Hobart Junction, whore I hoped to liud Addison, 1 might havo been—l really was---surrounded by an army of protectors and friends, f looked anxiously up and down the platform at Hobart, but, alas! no Addison was to be seen. Well, [ had come more than a thousand miles, alone, assuredly I was capable of conveying myself fifty, and he would not fail to be at Santana; so there was nothing to worry about. Nevertheless, when I found that there was only one day-car going on from Hobart. and that I was the only woman on board, my heart sank a little, I confess, for it was two o'clock in tho morning, and I was very, very tires'.. There was a change of conductors, too—a change for the worse. The •'boss' of this train was a large, roughly dressed person, with a hairy lice, who stared at me as he arranged my bags and wraps upon a seat in front, in a way not at all reassuring. When be had finished his work, ho asked, in a gruff voice, if I had friends in these parts.

I replied with dignity that the commandant at the fort was my brother, and then, leaning back in ray seat, closed my eyes, and pretended to slumber. This hint was sufficient, and to my groat joy, after another prolonged stare, the man went about his business. When I was quite sure of this, I opened my eyes and looked about rue. It wa3 a very shabby car : badly furnished, badly lighted andventilated, a smell of stale tobacco-smoke about it, which made me feel quite sick. I became very cross and gloomy. Addison ought to have met me before this. Ho knew I was alone, and must be awaro what an emigrant-car was like. Porhaps this was a practical joke— he always liked practical jokes—and hopsd to frighten me. Well, he had not done that any rate. There was nothing to bo frightened about. The men in the car scarcely noticed me at all, and though my conductor was gruff, liis face was not forbidding, and 110 knew Addison. Soothed by these thoughts, I closed my eyes in good earnest and tried to sleep. I was accustomed to travelling now, and soon dropped into an uneasy doze and began to divaui. 1 dreamed of a face I had not seen lor a long long wliih'—tile f.iao of an schoolfollow, K.-ic l'rootor by name, who li.td gone out West some time ago, and was often mentioned by Addison in his letters. Erie was a nice boy before he went West, a clumsy, over grown youth, but very amiable and

with a great head of yellow hair, anil simple, honest blue eyeis. 1 don't know why I dreamed ot' Erie now ; perhaps it was because in; was the only person I know in Texas besides the family ;but I did dream of him very vividly. I thought I had arrived at Santuna and found him on the platform instead of Addison, lie looked very much older than lie lined to do, his face haggard and worn. Ho did notspoak to me, but, taking my hand, led me until wo were out of sight of the station, and then lifted me on to a lior.se, which had appeared from Ido not know where, and we went galloping away at a tremendous pace. I begged him to let nio go, but lie shook his head and spurred on faster. I begun to feel cold and queer, as if ho were made of icc and wore freezing 1 inc. All at onee lie stopped, with a sharp jerk, and with a cry flung me away, and I felt myself falling, falling as if from some great height—and awoke. The train was still. We had pulled up at a wayside station to water the engine, and 1 was shivering with the chill air. The dawn was at hand, and I slipped out of the train and walked briskly up and down by myself, and by the time the wants of the engine were satisfied, the sun wan rising, and T to recover my spirits.

The car looked much shabbier by daylight than it had done before, but I cared little for that, for we were forty miles on our way ; Santana would be reached in another hour and iny troubles be over.

I tried to take an interest in the appearance of the country, but it looked very, very uninteresting and not a bit romantic. Only a dull

extent of will grass on either hand, stretching endlessly into spice. At last, a short, bin IF whistle from the engine, like ilic bark of some giant clog, a movement among the p issengers and a jarring sensation beneath my feat. The goal of u:y desire was not far oil'. Now the door of the ear was opened wide, and the conductor, who had kept away from me all the journey came in from the baggage car to take tickets. Mine was the last. lie examined it with unnecessary deliberation, and then delivered himself of the following ominous remark ; " Now, say ! why didn't yc write to the colonel that yew were comin' 1 The familiarity of this address would have disgusted me at any ordinary time ; but now I only began to feel miserably anxious. "Idid write," I replied breathlessly ; " he will be at the station to meet me." " He ain't!" The rejoinder came as sharply as the ping of an arrow. .1 jumped up with a lump in my throat and looked out of the window. | The train had stopped and most of the passengers were leaving it. There was no station or depot here; only a rough platform on one side of the line, with " Santana" painted in tipsy black letters on the rail, and a solitary log house a few yards away, with "Post-Office" in white letters on the door. Yet this was undoubtedly my destination, and the conductor was right—•Addison had not come. There were several rough, red-faced creatures lounging on the platform, wearing broad brimmed hats, great riding-boots, and cruel spurs; there were our passengers disappearing one by ouc into the log house in search of breakfast, but there was no Colonel Wynne. What could have happened 1 I turned from the window with a gasp, aud met the eyes of the conductor looking down upon uu: with the grimmest expression I had ever seen. " Well" he said, with an oxasperating interrogatory iullee tion on that expressive word. " lie cannot have received my letter," I observed, hurriedly, strivto keep my voice clear and steady, while the lump in my throat grew and grew, and I wanted to cry very badly indeed. To avert the catastrophe I suggested that my belongings should be removed from the train. Tho conductor instantly became brisk and helpful, and we were soon passing by the red-faced men, who drew back to give us room and stared with great round, stupid eyes, as if they had never seen a girl in a grey ulster before. We went straight to the post-oftice, aud were met by the postmaster before we reached the door. He was a tall, dark man, with only one eye ; a dreadfully ugly man, with a dirty face and still dirtier hands—a wicked looking man, I thought. The conductor greeted him as if they were old acquaintances. "Seen Colonel Wynne lately, Hank f

" A week ago—canio for his mail." " This is his sister." Mr Hank, nodded, as if he were already aware of the fact, and stared very hard at me with his one eye. " Is—is my brother here 1" I ventured to ask, just for something to say. " He's at the fort, nuss. 11 And how far off is that T " Thirty miles—bee-line.' My heart began to beat at a very uncomfortable rate. A horrible state of things ! " Would you kindly advise me what to do " Breakfast," struck in the conductor, decidedly: "you've eat nothing for an hour" "Thank you," I answered politely: " I am hungry, but I want to know how I am to get to Lincoln?"' This question was not to be answered at once. Neither of the men seemed to hear it, and without further ccromony ushered me into the house, through one long room full of men, with a stove in the middle of it, a liquor-bar, and several small tables, to a small room behind, where there were heaps of blankets scattered about, a rough bedstead, one chair, and a table.

"Hit down," said the postmaster pointing to a chair. I obeyed, feeling very forlorn and helpless. It wao a dreadful position to be in. There did not seem to be a woman anywhere ; I was thirty miles from my brother, with 110 visible means of reaehiug him ; and this one-eyed man was master of the situation. A whispered colloquy, lasting several minutes, now took place between the postmaster and the conductor, after which the former, whose name T subsequently discovered to be Mr Hank Wyhrow, turned to me and cleared his throat as though ho were about to address a camp meet-

"There's but two things to be done, miss, as far as we kin see, and you must fix on which road suits ye best. Xunnel Wynne don't expect you, I reckon, so you have to hunt bin), or send and git him to come for yew. I can't poke up much of an accommodation here, an'there ain't a woman nearer than the fort just now : but if you ; lect to stay, I'll fix what I may to-night and send a boy to the kunnel. If this ain't good enough, I'll see if anyone is bound Fori Lincoln way with a waggon to take ye there. Think it out, will ye ' while I dish bro.ilvfast, and let iuu know in an hour. This was fairly said. 1 thanked Mr Wybrow for his oilers, and was able to bid farowi'll with a stout heart to (lie conductor, who had another ten miles to trawl. It did not take me long to make up my mind. I cannot say that I relished the idea of a thirty-two mile drive with a stranger, but while breakfast was in course of propaiation a little incident happened that luado this difficulty seein a very small one. Tlio room I was in was lighted by one square window not far from tlio ground,

aud after the postmaster had left the room, I saw throo pairs of eyes, belonging to the rough faces of tho men I had seen on tho platform, staring fixedly at mo. They disappeared witii great quickness when they saw that I was aware of their scrutiny ; but the feeling of being watched was very unpleasant, audi felt that I could not pass a night at Santana on any account. Mr Wybrow appeared relieved when I told him this, and when he brought up breakfast, introduced a man who owned a waggon, and guaranteed to arrive at tho Tort Lincoln before sundown.

I can see the fellow now, though it is ten years since that day. A very thin man, of middle height, dressed in neat brown canvas clothes. His hair was very smooth, parted in the middle, and carried back behind his ears as tightly as if it were bound with rope. He had o small round head, a flat nose, brown eyes, rather dull and expressionless, very high cheek bones, and thick lips. An ugly man, yet quiet and modest in manner and speech, with a soft, well-modulated voice. He was inclined to bo bald, stooped in his gait, and seemed a rather stupid and altogether insignificant kind of person. A ' doctor of medicine ' he called himself, and added with some dignity that he was a ' friend of Colonel Wynne's.

I trusted him. His quiet voice was a relief after the harsh speech of Mr Wybrow, and my one object in life just then was to got away from those horrible staring eyes. In less than an hour I was by his side, jolting along the Fort Lincoln road, behind a stout team of mules.

I cannot remember how far we went before I began to feel nervous and uncomfortable. I know that it was a long way, for I remember congratulating myself upon having left Santana, because my companion told me that the late postmaster had been murdered by cowboys a week or two ago—this was doubtless how my letter miscarried—and that the station was known to be one of the worst haunts for rowdies in the country. But the time came at length when he fell quite silent, and I then found that whenever I turned my head to view the prairie about us, his eyes rested upon my face. Oh, how terrible it was ! I edged away from him to the farthest corner of the seat, and felt more and more helpless and unnerved every moment. The suspense did not last long. When he perceived my fears he boldly raised liis eyes and looked at me with a smile of the most horrible kind. Then ho laughed softly a dry, hard, laugh. I tried to speak now, but my throat was dry and parched, and my tongue seemed paralyzed. He laughed again, louder, and, stooping quickly, pulled up the mules with a jerk. I knew what was coming, and before he could touch me, sprang from the waggon. He followed me with the swift, silent movement of a snake, and as I turned to meet him, for I could not run, he laughed for the third time. The sound roused me. I tried to seize his throat with both hands. I felt I could kill him for that laugh. But, oh ! the weakness of a woman ! Why are we not as strong as men 1 He caught my wrist in his hard, brown fingers : my arms were forced back, powerless and helpless, and as if held in iron bands. I screamed now, in good earnest, and struggled against him with all my strength and soul, and all the time I felt his grip grow tighter and tighter—his muscles were of steel. Suddenly he relaxed his hold and stood still, and his Hushed face became colourless and livid, as if I had accomplished my desire and he was dying. Then he let me go, starting from me as if I were some poisonous thing 3 and dropping on his knees, ho bent his head to the ground and listened. When he rose to his feet a moment later he reeled and staggered like a drunken man, looking at inc wildly with the expression of some hunted beast of prey. I stared at him dumbfounded for a moment, feeling very giddy and sick; and then I knew what he had heard. We were in a hollow, between two rolls of prairie, and could not see far on either side, but sound carries a long way in this country, and even my unaccustomed ears now caught a low rumbling thunder, becoming louder every instant--the flying hoofs of galloping horses. It came from behind ; someone had followed us. Whoever it might be, the wretched man who had betrayed his trust was likely to get short shrift. He knew it well, and now threw himself on his knees at my feet, muttering, in a hoarse whisper : "Come back to the waggon. They'll murder me in cold blood else, before your eyes. I swear I was only fooling. I had not a wrong thought in my heart. Save me, save me !"

I was willing to do that, much as I loathed the creature, for he had not hurt me ; but I could not go buck to the waggon. I began to feel very faint and queer : the sensation of safety, after the horrible tension a minute ago, was a severe re-action, and almost too much for inn. The poor wretch saw this, and his muttered supplications rose to a bitter cry. "They are cowboys; they've heard you call. They'll tear uio in pieces if you drop. Don't'! Oh, my <Jod ! my God !" 1 set uiy teeth hard. I would not yield to my weakness. Bad as his intentions wore, I. could not lot him be killed. With a great effort I managed somehow to keep my head steady, and then my rescuers swept over the hili, and tlio danger was over. Twelve mounted men thoy were, riding at a tearing gallop, with free bridlo roin. They gave a tremendous shout when they saw us, and then there was a great flash of steel and silver, as twelve revolvers sprang from sheath and wero cooked and made roady for use.

Tho poor wretch at my foot buried his faco in his hands and crouched I in terror, aud 1 felt very nervous indeed, for these cowboys looked dreadfully fierce. On they came, silent now, many of them with bare knives between their teeth. No wonder the guilty creature was in despair. I went forward to meet them, and was about to speak, when a hat was waved wildly, u hearty voice greeted me. and I saw a face that I knew, It was Eric's, pale and stern, as I had seen it in my dream, but handsomer—very much handsomer; and in another instant he was off his horse and shaking both my hands until my fingers positively ached. I was iu safe keeping now, indeed.

I have little more to tell. It took all Eric's influence and my entreaties to save the wretehi:! man. But it was done in the end, i and we were soon on our way to the fort. There I found out that the very cow-boys I had dreaded so much at Santana were instrumental in causing the timely arrival of the rescue party. They had their suspicions, and when Eric—who rode into Santana half an hour after I left it—said they should show me, they volunteered to a man. I may pass over Addison's astonishment when we arrived at the fort. He had never received my letter. We had a most joyful time that day; but I think what interested me most were some words I over-heard Addison say to Eric Proctor : " You may stay a month, at least, with us. We don't often see you, and now that. Elsie is here " Eric did stay, and I am bound to admit that he made the most of his time. Before I went back we were engaged to be married.—A Patterson, in the " English Illustrated."

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/WT18901223.2.36

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Waikato Times, Volume XXXV, Issue 2878, 23 December 1890, Page 4

Word count
Tapeke kupu
3,479

A WOMAN'S PERIL. Waikato Times, Volume XXXV, Issue 2878, 23 December 1890, Page 4

A WOMAN'S PERIL. Waikato Times, Volume XXXV, Issue 2878, 23 December 1890, Page 4

Help

Log in or create a Papers Past website account

Use your Papers Past website account to correct newspaper text.

By creating and using this account you agree to our terms of use.

Log in with RealMe®

If you’ve used a RealMe login somewhere else, you can use it here too. If you don’t already have a username and password, just click Log in and you can choose to create one.


Log in again to continue your work

Your session has expired.

Log in again with RealMe®


Alert