The smith lifted his
face from the sole of the horse he was shoeing and replied,
"Monterey Centre."
I looked around at my own county, stretching away in green waves on all
sides of the brand-new village; which was so small that it did not
interfere with the view. I had reached my own county! I had been a part
of it on this whole wonderful journey, getting acquainted with its
people, picking up the threads of its future, now its history.
Prior to this time I had been courting the country; now I was to be
united with it in that holy wedlock which binds the farmer to the soil
he tills. Out of this black loam was to come my own flesh and blood, and
the bodies, and I believe, in some measure, the souls of my children.
Some dim conception of this made me draw in a deep, deep breath of the
fresh prairie air.
CHAPTER XII
HELL SLEW, ALIAS VANDEMARK'S FOLLY
That last night before I reached my "home town" of Monterey Centre, I
had camped within two or three miles of the settlement. I forgot all
that day to inquire where I was: so absent-minded was I with all my
botheration because of losing Virginia. I was thinking all the time of
seeing her again, wondering if I should ever see her alone or to speak
to her, ashamed of my behavior toward her--in my thoughts at
least--vexed because I had felt toward her, except for the last two or
three days, things that made it impossible to get really acquainted and
friendly with her. I was absorbed in the attempt to figure out the
meaning of her friendly acts when we parted, especially her coming back,
as I was sure she had, against the will of Grandma Thorndyke; and that
kiss she had given me was a much greater problem than making time on my
journey: I lived it over and over again a thousand times and asked
myself what I ought to have done when she kissed me, and never feeling
satisfied with myself for not doing more of something or other, I knew
not what.
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