IV.
Creede, Colo., March 28, 1892.Dear Fitz:—Three days ago I wrote you that I had located Mr. Ketchum but failed to find the girl. Yesterday being Sunday, I went down to the hot springs at Wagon WheelGap to spend the day. At the hotel I met Mrs. McCleland, of Alamosa, and while we were conversing, a lady commenced to sing in the parlor. The soft notes that came from the piano mingled with a voice so full of soulful melody, that I stopped talking and listened. “Do you like music?” asked the good lady from the San Luis. “There is but one thing sweeter,” I said, “and that is poetry—the music of the soul. Take me in, won’t you?”Man and womanWe entered so softly that the young woman at the piano failed to notice our coming, and sang on to the end of the piece.“La Paloma!” How different from the strains I had heard during the pastweek, from the Umpah band in front of the Olympic Theater.When she had finished, the singer turned, blushed, and rising, advanced toward my friend, holding out her hand; and I was surprised and pleased to hear Mrs. Mc. say: “Well, I want to know—are you here?”Woman playing the pianoThe young lady acknowledged that she was, and went into a long explanation that she had concluded to stop at the springs until matters were in a little better shape at Creede.“Where is Mr. ——, Mr. ——,” stammered Mrs. Mc.“Oh, he’s in Creede,” said the young lady, as she shot a glance at me which was followed by a becoming blush. “He is so busy at the mines; theywork a great many men, you know.”All this time I had been looking over Mrs. McCleland’s shoulder into an exceedingly bright and interesting face.“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said the good lady, “this is Mr. Warman, Miss Parsons.”Man with two womenI don’t know for the life of me, whether I said “Howdy,” or “Good-by,” I was dazed. I had forgotten the while I looked into that beautiful face, that such a person lived as Polly Parsons, and when it came to me all at once like the firing of a blast, it took the wind out of my sails and left me helpless in mid-ocean.“Where did you meet Miss Parsons?”I asked, when the young lady had left the room.“At Alamosa, some two weeks ago, she stopped at our hotel, and I didn’t like the looks of the man she was with; so I asked her to sleep in a spare room just off from my own.“I heard him trying to persuade her to go to Creede with him the next day, but could not understand what her argument was, except that she would not go to Creede until there was something for her to do.”“Who was this man?” I asked.“His name is Ketchum; he is connected with the Sure Thing Mining Company.”“At last!” I said with a sigh that was really a relief to me.After luncheon, I gave the letter you sent, to Miss Parsons, and I watched her face while she read it.Of one of two things I am convinced; either she loves you and was glad to see that letter, or she hates you and will do as much for me. That is as near as you can guess a pretty woman.Woman reading a letter“If there’s anything I can do for you, Miss Parsons—” “O, I am quite capable of getting along alone,” she said. “I thank you, of course, but there is nothing; I am promised a good position in Mr. Ketchum’s office as soon as they get things in shape. I have some ready money with me, enough to pay my expenses at the hotel.”“You will not find so pleasant a hotel in Creede as this, Miss Parsons. The Pattons are nice people, and itwould be better, I think, for you to remain here until a position is open for you,” I ventured by way of advice.“Mr. Ketchum has engaged a room for me over the Albany Restaurant,” she said, “and he is to call here for me to-morrow.”“But, Miss Parsons,” said I, “do you know what sort of a place that is?”“I know, sir, that Mr. Ketchum would not take me to an improper place,” and she gave her head a twist that told me that my advice was not wanted.“I beg your pardon, Miss Parsons,” said I, by way of explanation; “I was thinking of the Albany Theater building; the restaurant may be all right. But I was thinking only of your welfare.”“Thank you,” she said, but she meant “Don’t trouble yourself.”“Good-by, Miss Parsons,” I said, extending my hand. “Hope I may have the pleasure of meeting you in Creede.”“I go to Creede to-morrow,” she said as she gave me a warm, plump hand and said “Good-by.”Fitz, forgive me for being so slow; but you forgot to tell me how beautiful she was; the Poet of the Kansas CityStarwould say: “Her carriage, face and figure are perfection; and her smile is a shimmer-tangled day-dream, as she drifts adown the aisle.” Such eyes! like miniature seas, set about with weeping willows, and hair like ripening grain, with the sunlight sifting through it.Good-by,Cy Warman.
Creede, Colo., March 28, 1892.
Dear Fitz:—Three days ago I wrote you that I had located Mr. Ketchum but failed to find the girl. Yesterday being Sunday, I went down to the hot springs at Wagon WheelGap to spend the day. At the hotel I met Mrs. McCleland, of Alamosa, and while we were conversing, a lady commenced to sing in the parlor. The soft notes that came from the piano mingled with a voice so full of soulful melody, that I stopped talking and listened. “Do you like music?” asked the good lady from the San Luis. “There is but one thing sweeter,” I said, “and that is poetry—the music of the soul. Take me in, won’t you?”
Man and woman
We entered so softly that the young woman at the piano failed to notice our coming, and sang on to the end of the piece.
“La Paloma!” How different from the strains I had heard during the pastweek, from the Umpah band in front of the Olympic Theater.
When she had finished, the singer turned, blushed, and rising, advanced toward my friend, holding out her hand; and I was surprised and pleased to hear Mrs. Mc. say: “Well, I want to know—are you here?”
Woman playing the piano
The young lady acknowledged that she was, and went into a long explanation that she had concluded to stop at the springs until matters were in a little better shape at Creede.
“Where is Mr. ——, Mr. ——,” stammered Mrs. Mc.
“Oh, he’s in Creede,” said the young lady, as she shot a glance at me which was followed by a becoming blush. “He is so busy at the mines; theywork a great many men, you know.”
All this time I had been looking over Mrs. McCleland’s shoulder into an exceedingly bright and interesting face.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said the good lady, “this is Mr. Warman, Miss Parsons.”
Man with two women
I don’t know for the life of me, whether I said “Howdy,” or “Good-by,” I was dazed. I had forgotten the while I looked into that beautiful face, that such a person lived as Polly Parsons, and when it came to me all at once like the firing of a blast, it took the wind out of my sails and left me helpless in mid-ocean.
“Where did you meet Miss Parsons?”I asked, when the young lady had left the room.
“At Alamosa, some two weeks ago, she stopped at our hotel, and I didn’t like the looks of the man she was with; so I asked her to sleep in a spare room just off from my own.
“I heard him trying to persuade her to go to Creede with him the next day, but could not understand what her argument was, except that she would not go to Creede until there was something for her to do.”
“Who was this man?” I asked.
“His name is Ketchum; he is connected with the Sure Thing Mining Company.”
“At last!” I said with a sigh that was really a relief to me.
After luncheon, I gave the letter you sent, to Miss Parsons, and I watched her face while she read it.
Of one of two things I am convinced; either she loves you and was glad to see that letter, or she hates you and will do as much for me. That is as near as you can guess a pretty woman.
Woman reading a letter
“If there’s anything I can do for you, Miss Parsons—” “O, I am quite capable of getting along alone,” she said. “I thank you, of course, but there is nothing; I am promised a good position in Mr. Ketchum’s office as soon as they get things in shape. I have some ready money with me, enough to pay my expenses at the hotel.”
“You will not find so pleasant a hotel in Creede as this, Miss Parsons. The Pattons are nice people, and itwould be better, I think, for you to remain here until a position is open for you,” I ventured by way of advice.
“Mr. Ketchum has engaged a room for me over the Albany Restaurant,” she said, “and he is to call here for me to-morrow.”
“But, Miss Parsons,” said I, “do you know what sort of a place that is?”
“I know, sir, that Mr. Ketchum would not take me to an improper place,” and she gave her head a twist that told me that my advice was not wanted.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Parsons,” said I, by way of explanation; “I was thinking of the Albany Theater building; the restaurant may be all right. But I was thinking only of your welfare.”
“Thank you,” she said, but she meant “Don’t trouble yourself.”
“Good-by, Miss Parsons,” I said, extending my hand. “Hope I may have the pleasure of meeting you in Creede.”
“I go to Creede to-morrow,” she said as she gave me a warm, plump hand and said “Good-by.”
Fitz, forgive me for being so slow; but you forgot to tell me how beautiful she was; the Poet of the Kansas CityStarwould say: “Her carriage, face and figure are perfection; and her smile is a shimmer-tangled day-dream, as she drifts adown the aisle.” Such eyes! like miniature seas, set about with weeping willows, and hair like ripening grain, with the sunlight sifting through it.
Good-by,Cy Warman.