Jasper County Democrat, Volume 6, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 February 1904 — LONE DOG’S NEW AGENT [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

LONE DOG’S NEW AGENT

By F. B. Wright

...Copyright. 1803, by T. C. McClure... <

Brainard was the new agent's name, and he was slight and young looking and curly headed. The N. W. and M. had appointed him station agent at Lone Dog because no one else would take the job. Lone Dog resented Brainard’s apparent youth, his cleanliness and his sobriety, the last two constituting the height of eccentricity in bone Dog, and four nights after his arrival whirled in to have fun with the “kid tenderfoot.” It was harmless fun enough. But the boy—lie wgs little more—did not under - acand it and grew angry, then sullen and then scared, to the,great delight of the circle of grinning ‘cowboys lounging under the station lamp. They made ■the boy tell them of the east; they made Shim speak pieces, dance and sing; then, the fun flagging, some ingeniously Inclined gentlemen had rifled his shabby little trunk and held Its contents up for ■derision.

“Gents,” cried a bandy legged individual in “chaps” and sombrero, jumping on to the one ink stained table and holding ui> a photograph to the audi-ence-“gents, I wants to call your attention to the most unparalleled and stupendous curiosity ever found in these yore parts—a gentiwine pieter of a gal and a mighty fine gal too. None of these yore biscuit shooters, this ain’t, but the real article; only needs to be seen to be appreciated. In order to avoid a rumpus over this yere work of art I'm going to give you all a ehanst at It. What do you bid for it? Come high, boys, for the honor of Lone Dog.” The idea caught the crowd, There were cries of “Hand it around, Bud!” “The kid's gal, you say?” “Durned if I ain’t forgot what a woman looks like. I ain’t seen one since last roundup!” And amid a chorus of comment and suggestion tile bidding went on. At last it was knocked down to Steve Oliver of the X ranch outfit, the price being drinks for the crowd. “Who is it, kid?” said Steve when lie returned to his place against the wnll, “It’s— it’s— my sister,” answered the boy, coloring. “Please give it back to me.” “Don’t you fret; you’ll get It back again, sonny. Sister, eh?” Steve mov-

ed over toward the one lamp and studied the picture, while the other men turned to fresh devices. These consisted in making the boy drink. He didn’t seem to be cheerful enough, they said. The boy refused and then after many threats touched his lips gingerly to a bottle and choked. “I can't,” he said, coughing and spluttering. “You don't pass out like that,” growled the owner of the bottle. “You drink!” “I can’t,” said young Brainard, “and I won’t.” “Says ‘shan’t’ and ‘won’t’ just like a sure enough man,” commented his tormentor. “Well, you’ve got to. We don’t like prohibltioners around here. They ain’t popular.” The man twisted his hand In the collar of the boy’s blue shirt as he spoke, but the boy tore away, sprang across the room and pulled a pistol. For a moment It looked as If the comedy were about to change to tragedy, and then the boy's arm was knocked up and the gun wrenched from his trembling hand. It was the cowboy who had bought the picture. “You’re too old to play with them things, sonny,” he said quietly, “and too young to get shot.” Then he turned to the others. “I don’t know how you feel, boys,” he said, “but I don’t reckon I keer for no more fun tonight—at least this here kind. Playin’ with children is mighty comical, but they're liable to git too familious to suit me. { move we poll our freight to the saloon. The drinks are on me.” It was, on the whole, a good natured crowd, and Steve was popular, wherefore it took the hint and its ponies and departed whooping. An boor later Steve returned. The

lamp was out, and he was about to ride along when he heard the sound of sobbing from the dark interior of the station. “Ho|y smoko! They don’t breed men where he comps from, that's sure,” said he, dismounting and going to the door. He moved toward the sound and made out the boy crouching beside a bench, his face in his hands. At the jar of heavy footsteps the boy started, but Steve laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. “There, sonny, don’t take on like that when there ain't no reason. The boys was Just playin’. They didn’t mean no harm unless you’d pulled that trigger.” “I’d have killed him,” sobbed the boy, “if he’d touched me again!” Steve chuckled. “He was safe enough, kid. It Was the rest of us you had scared. It was plumb ridiculous.” The boy apparently did not see the comicality of the situation, for he continued crying softly, while Steve looked on, powerless to help, A crying man was something new in his philosophy. “Look here, kid,” he said at last, “why did you come here anyway? You’re mighty young and Inexperienced for this here strenuous life.” “I hml to. This was the only place I could get” “Ain’t you got no kin?” “They are all dead.” “Your slster-yshe ain’t, is she?” “My sister? What sister? What do you mean?” “The sister whose picture the boys was admirin’ of.” “Oh, she? She’s living.” There was a long pause. “She's a right purty gal,” said Steve. “I’ve been studyin’ that picture. She certainly favors you a heap—that Is, If she has yaller hair, like yourn. Has she?” “Yes,” returned the boy; “It’s just the color of mine.” “I reckoned so. Long, I bet, and curly. I knowed it. Wliat’s her name?” “Er—Jessie,” “Jessie?” Steve pondered over the name ns if to see if it would fit his preconceived notions. “You’ll be having her on here soon, I reckon, won’t you? I’m powerful anxious to come up with your sister.” The boy gave a queer little laugh, which changed to a sigh.

“I guess not now,” lie said, “after what’s happened. I must go away—go back. I ought never to have come. I didn’t see it before. Oh, you can’t understand,” he cried. “I don’t want to go. I haven’t any situation nor money nor friends!” lie broke down, sobbing, again. * “And run away from nothing. The boys ain’t goin’ to do no harm. I’ll see you don’t get messed with too much.” “Hut when you ain’t here what would happen? Oh, if you hadn’t been here tonight! No; there’s no way but for me to leave.” Steve shifted uneasily in ids chair. “Tills here sister of yours,” he said at last, “do you reckon now she’d marry me if I could git to ask her?” He stopped the boy as he was about to speak. “Just keep quiet, sonny, and let me bark a spell. I’ve been doing a lot of thinkin’ since I come here this evening, and it’s been about her. I’ve been driftin’ around these parts for the last ten years and more, ever since I wns half as young as you, getting into scrapes and out of ’em, riding the ranges, roundin’ up, tightin’ when I had to, drinkln’ and gamblin’ and shootln’ up a town, just like all men .does out here, wlthouten there’s a woman to hold ’em steady, and tonight when I see your sister’s picture it come across me that I wanted to settle down, and I wanted her to help me. That’s why I don’t want you to go away, kid, for If you do I won’t git no chance to see her and ask her. Do you reckon she’d look at me, kid?” The boy said nothing for a moment, while Steve watched him anxiously. The dawn was just breaking over the plains, and a pale light came through the dirty windows of the station. “I—l haven't any sister,” said the boy huskily at last. "I lied to you, but you’ve been too good to me, and I can’t keep it up. I—the picture—it’s me. I’m—oh, can’t you see —I’m a girl!” “A girl! I’ll—be”— Steve didn’t finish the sentence. He rose and went to the window and looked out on the faint gray green of the sagebrush. Brainard continued as if in defense: “I had to do it. I helped my brother in the station at home and learned to telegraph. Then he died, and no one had any work for a girl—at least work I could do. Then I thought I would come west, dressed as a man, and I got this job, and now—now you know why I’ve got to go back.” Steve turned and came to the side of the girl. “You ain’t got to go back, and you ain’t a-goin'—not if I can help it. I might have known you was a woman, j only I didn’t know women had such grit. Look here, kid—l mean—that is”“Jessie was my sister’s name,” said the girl, with a little laugh. “Well, I’m rough, and I don’t deserve no such gal as you, Jessie, but there’s a heap of men git what they don’t deserve, and I ain’t so mighty bad. You say you kin telegraph. Weil, you sit down then to that ticker and do some telegraphin’ for me, one np the line for a new agent for Lone Dog Station and one to Prairie City for a parson. And tell ’em I give ’em until tomorrow mornin’ to git here on the first train,” added Steve Oliver, with emphasis.

“HAND IT AROUND, BUD!"