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A Prairie Infanta By: Eva Wilder Brodhead (1870-1915) |
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"THE DOCTOR SCOWLED OVER HIS GLASSES AS HE LISTENED." See p. 79 ]
A
Prairie Infanta
By Eva Wilder Brodhead
Illustrated
PHILADELPHIA HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY HENRY ALTEMUS The pictures in this book have been reproduced by the courtesy of "The
Youth's Companion"
CONTENTS
PAGE CHAPTER ONE THE POWER OF CONSOLATION 13 CHAPTER TWO A SACRED CHARGE 37 CHAPTER THREE A TRUE BENEFACTRESS 61 CHAPTER FOUR WISE IMPULSES 85 CHAPTER FIVE DESTINY PRESSES 109 CHAPTER SIX BEWILDERING SATISFACTION 133
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE "The doctor scowled over his glasses as he listened" Frontispiece "'I will not go with you!'" 29 "'He is Tesuque, the rain god'" 55 "'I hoped you'd be able to lend me a hand'" 101 "'Do not make the thread short, Lolita'" 123 "' Tia , you are a lady of fortune'" 153
THE
POWER OF CONSOLATION
A PRAIRIE INFANTA
CHAPTER ONE THE POWER OF CONSOLATION
At the first glance there appeared to be nothing unusual in the scene
confronting Miss Jane Combs as she stood, broad and heavy, in her
doorway that May morning, looking up and down the single street of the
little Colorado mining town. Jane's house was broad and heavy also a rough, paintless "shack,"
which she had built after her own ideals on a treeless "forty" just
beyond the limits of Aguilar. It was like herself in having nothing
about it calculated to win the eye. Jane, with her rugged, middle aged face, baggy blouse, hob nailed shoes
and man's hat, was so unfeminine a figure as she plowed and planted her
little vega, that some village wag had once referred to her as "Annie
Laurie." Because of its happy absurdity the name long clung to Jane;
but despite such small jests every one respected her sterling
traits, every one, that is, except Señora Vigil, who lived hard by in
a mud house like a bird's nest, and who cherished a grudge against her
neighbor. For, years before, when Jane's "forty" was measured off by the
surveyor, it had been developed that the Vigil homestead was out of
bounds, and that a small strip of its back yard belonged in the Combs
tract. Jane would have waived her right, but the surveyor said that the
land office could not "muddle up" the records in any such way; she must
take her land. And Jane had taken it, knowing, however, that thereafter
even the youngest Vigil, aged about ten months, would regard her as an
enemy. Just now, too, as Alejandro Vigil, a ragged lad with a scarlet cap on
his black head, went by, driving his goats to pasture, he had said
"rogue!" under his breath. Jane sighed at the word, and her eyes
followed him sadly up the road, little thinking her glance was to take
in something which should print itself forever in her memory, and make
this day different from all other days. In the clear sun everything was sharply defined. From the Mexican end
of town, the old "plaza," which antedated coal mines and
Americanisms, gleamed the little gold cross of the adobe Church of San
Antonio. Around it were green, tall cottonwoods and the straggling
mud houses and pungent goat corrals of its people. Toward the cañon
rose the tipple and fans of the Dauntless colliery, banked in slack and
slate, and surrounded by paintless mine houses, while to the right
swept the ugly shape of the company's store. The mine end of the town
was not pretty, nor was it quiet, like the plaza. Just at present the
whistle was blowing, and throngs of miners were gathering at the mouth
of the slope. From above clamored the first "trip" of cars. Day and its
work had begun. Alejandro's red cap was a mere speck in the cañon, and his herd was
sprinkled, like bread crumbs, over the slaty hills... Continue reading book >>
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Fiction |
Teen/Young adult |
Westerns |
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