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Ranson's Folly By: Richard Harding Davis (1864-1916) |
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RANSON'S FOLLY BY RICHARD HARDING DAVIS
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY Frederic Remington, Walter Appleton Clark,
Howard Chandler Christy, E.M. Ashe
& F. Dorr Steele CONTENTS RANSOM'S FOLLY
Illustrated by Frederic Remington. THE BAR SINISTER
Illustrated by E.M. Ashe. A DERELICT
Illustrated by Walter Appleton Clark. LA LETTRE D'AMOUR
Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy. IN THE FOG
Illustrated by Frederic Dorr Steele.
ILLUSTRATIONS "Throw up your hands," he commanded. Ranson faced the door, spinning the revolver around his fourth
finger. "I suppose I'm the ugliest bull dog in America". "Miss Dorothy snatches me up and kisses me between the ears." "We've got a great story! We want a clear wire." He played to the empty chair. The men around the table turned and glanced toward the gentleman in
front of the fireplace. "What was the object of your plot?"
RANSON'S FOLLY PART I
The junior officers of Fort Crockett had organized a mess at the
post trader's. "And a mess it certainly is," said Lieutenant Ranson.
The dining table stood between hogsheads of molasses and a blazing
log fire, the counter of the store was their buffet, a pool table
with a cloth, blotted like a map of the Great Lakes, their sideboard,
and Indian Pete acted as butler. But none of these things counted
against the great fact that each evening Mary Cahill, the daughter of
the post trader, presided over the evening meal, and turned it into a
banquet. From her high chair behind the counter, with the cash
register on her one side and the weighing scales on the other, she
gave her little Senate laws, and smiled upon each and all with the
kind impartiality of a comrade. At least, at one time she had been impartial. But of late she smiled
upon all save Lieutenant Ranson. When he talked, she now looked at
the blazing log fire, and her cheeks glowed and her eyes seemed to
reflect the lifting flame. For five years, ever since her father brought her from the convent at
St. Louis, Mary Cahill had watched officers come and officers go. Her
knowledge concerning them, and their public and private affairs, was
vast and miscellaneous. She was acquainted with the traditions of
every regiment, with its war record, with its peace time politics,
its nicknames, its scandals, even with the earnings of each company
canteen. At Fort Crockett, which lay under her immediate observation,
she knew more of what was going forward than did the regimental
adjutant, more even than did the colonel's wife. If Trumpeter Tyler
flatted on church call, if Mrs. Stickney applied to the quartermaster
for three feet of stovepipe, if Lieutenant Curtis were granted two
days' leave for quail shooting, Mary Cahill knew it; and if Mrs.
"Captain" Stairs obtained the post ambulance for a drive to Kiowa
City, when Mrs. "Captain" Ross wanted it for a picnic, she knew what
words passed between those ladies, and which of the two wept. She
knew all of these things, for each evening they were retailed to her
by her "boarders." Her boarders were very loyal to Mary Cahill. Her
position was a difficult one, and had it not been that the boy
officers were so understanding, it would have been much more
difficult. For the life of a regimental post is as circumscribed as
the life on a ship of war, and it would no more be possible for the
ship's barber to rub shoulders with the admiral's epaulets than that
a post trader's child should visit the ladies on the "line," or that
the wives of the enlisted men should dine with the young girl from
whom they "took in" washing. So, between the upper and the nether grindstones, Mary Cahill was
left without the society of her own sex, and was of necessity forced
to content herself with the society of the officers. And the officers
played fair. Loyalty to Mary Cahill was a tradition at Fort Crockett,
which it was the duty of each succeeding regiment to sustain... Continue reading book >>
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