Elder Conklin and Other Stories
Harris, Frank, 1856-1931
English
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ELDER CONKLIN
AND OTHER STORIES
BY
FRANK HARRIS
New York
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND LONDON
1894
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1894,
BY MACMILLAN AND CO.
* * * * *
CONTENTS
ELDER CONKLIN
THE SHERIFF AND HIS PARTNER
A MODERN IDYLL
EATIN' CROW
THE BEST MAN IN GAROTTE
GULMORE, THE BOSS
* * * * *
ELDER CONKLIN.
As soon as the Elder left the supper-table his daughter and the new
schoolmaster went out on the stoop or verandah which ran round the
frame-house. The day had been warm, but the chilliness of the evening
air betokened the near approach of the Indian summer. The house stood
upon the crest of what had been a roll in the prairie, and as the two
leant together on the railing of the stoop, they looked out over a small
orchard of peach-trees to where, a couple of hundred yards away, at the
foot of the bluff, Cottonwood Creek ran, fringed on either bank by the
trees which had suggested its name. On the horizon to their right, away
beyond the spears of yellow maize, the sun was sinking, a ball of orange
fire against the rose mist of the sky. When the girl turned towards him,
perhaps to avoid the level rays, Bancroft expressed the hope that she
would go with him to the house-warming. A little stiffly Miss Conklin
replied that she'd be pleased, but--
"What have I done, Miss Loo, to offend you?" the young man spoke
deprecatingly.
"Nothin', I guess," she answered, with assumed indifference.
"When I first came you were so kind and helped me in everything. Now for
the last two or three days you seem cold and sarcastic, as if you were
angry with me. I'd be sorry if that were so--very sorry."
"Why did you ask Jessie Stevens to go with you to the house-warmin'?"
was the girl's retort.
"I certainly didn't ask her," he replied hotly. "You must know I
didn't."
"Then Seth lied!" exclaimed Miss Conklin. "But I guess he'll not try
that again with me--Seth Stevens I mean. He wanted me to go with him to-
night, and I didn't give him the mitten, as I should if I'd thought you
were goin' to ask me."
"What does 'giving the mitten' mean?" he questioned, with a puzzled air.
"Why, jest the plainest kind of refusal, I guess; but I only told him I
was afraid I'd have to go with you, seein' you were a stranger.
'Afraid,'" she repeated, as if the word stung her. "But he'll lose
nothin' by waitin', nothin'. You hear me talk." And her eyes flashed.
As she drew herself up in indignation, Bancroft thought he had never
seen any one so lovely. "A perfect Hebe," he said to himself, and
started as if he had said the words aloud. The comparison was apt.
Though Miss Loo Conklin was only seventeen, her figure had all the
ripeness of womanhood, and her height--a couple of inches above the
average--helped to make her look older than she was. Her face was more
than pretty; it was, in fact, as beautiful as youth, good features, and
healthy colouring could make it. A knotted mass of chestnut hair set off
the shapely head: the large blue eyes were deepened by dark lashes. The
underlip, however, was a little full, and the oval of the face through
short curve of jaw a trifle too round. Her companion tried in vain to
control the admiration of his gaze. Unelated by what she felt to be
merely her due, Miss Conklin was silent for a time. At length she
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