The next day I met on the street the red-headed girl, who went
by the name of Alice Rucker, and was notorious as a medium. She stopped
me, and asked why I hadn't been to see her--carrying the conversation
off casually, as if we had been ordinary acquaintances. All I could
say--for I was a little embarrassed, was "I do' know"--which was what I
had told Rucker and Jackway, in answer to a thousand questions, until
they were crazy to know how to come at me.
"Let me tell you something," said she. "If you want that Iowa farm,
pa--"
"Who?" said I.
"Rucker," said she, brazening it out with me. "He'll give you the land,
and your outfit. Don't let them fool you out of the team and wagon."
"Thank you for telling me," said I; "but I guess I'll have to have
more."
"If you go into court he'll beat you," said she, "and I'm telling you
that as a friend, even if you don't believe me."
"I'm much obliged," I said; and I believed then, and believe now, that
she was sincere.
"And when you start," said she, "if you want some one to cook and take
care of you, let me know. I like traveling."
I turned red at this; and halted and mumbled, until she tripped away,
laughing, but looking back at me; but I remembered what she had said,
and within a week I had consented that Jackway be appointed guardian _ad
litem_ for me in the court proceedings; and in a short time I received a
good team of mares, a bay named Fanny and a sorrel named Flora, good,
twelve hundred pound chunks, but thin in flesh--I would not take
geldings--a wagon, nearly new, a set of wagon bows, enough heavy
drilling to make a cover, some bedding, a stove, an old double-barreled
shotgun, two pounds of powder and a lot of shot, harness for the team,
horse-feed, and as complete an outfit as I could think of, even to the
box of axle-grease swinging under the wagon-box.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103