The Death of Rhoda McDonald
THE END OF A NOBLE WOMAN'S LIFE. HER LETTER OF GOOD-BY
It is at this point that we must pause to record a circumstance which seems totally out of place in the midst of an episode of this kind, but which, because of its association with events, cannot be elsewhere set down. Yet, after all, why should not the end of a noble life be written here, when that life had been always a part of the active service of him whose career we have been following—the life of an unfaltering hero of the home who never said "stay" but "go," no matter what the danger; who even at the very end sent him back to his duty, and died alone.
Rhoda McDonald had not been a robust woman for a number of years. Those early frontier days on Wanderer's Creek had been hard, and must have told on her in the long run, as well as all the anxious nights and days that had filled up the years of a Ranger's wife.
At Alice, though manifestly in poor health, she still maintained a home, doing such light housekeeping as her strength permitted. Her interest in her husband's work was as active as ever; she knew every detail of the situation at Edna as reported by the press, and when in May, 1906, he was ordered there for further investigation, she bade him go, despite reluctance on his part, for she believed that he alone could bring to punishment the perpetrators of that terrible crime. They arranged that in his absence she should go to a sanatorium in San Antonio, and try to regain strength; and in accordance with this plan she closed the little household at Alice, and at San Antonio went under a doctor's care. When Captain McDonald had been in Edna a short time, he was notified that an operation would be necessary to save her life. He hurried to San Antonio and found her cheerful, though evidently aware of her danger. Her talk, however, was all of his work and the prospects of his further progress. When the ordeal was over and the physicians declared that her chances for recovery were very good, she would not let him stay to verify this opinion, but hurried him back to his work.
"I want you to find the men that murdered that poor woman and those little innocent children," she said, "and you must not waste your time here with me."
So he went back, and for a few days encouraging letters came from doctors and attendants. Then came a telegram which said: "Conditions not so favorable; come."
She was dead when he got there, but she had left a letter of good-by. That letter is a classic. As an epitome of a simple, noble, unselfish life—calm and fearless in the face of the supreme mystery—it seems without a flaw.
"My Dear Husband:
"When your eyes look on these lines I will have crossed the Great Divide, and these wishes of mine I am sure you will fulfil. Enclosed is a note from Lee (my brother), which matures next spring. I managed to save it from my means, or some of it, two years ago, and Lee has been so good to keep it at interest, which I have added to the original amount, until it has reached the amount of the note.
"Please send Sister, your sister, $25.00 and give Ruth $25.00. She has to work very hard. Allow Lee this year's interest for his kindness and trouble. I want Eula (your niece) to have the brooch you gave me; Dot (your niece) my fur and the small diamond ear-bob. Give Mollie (my sister) the other diamond ear-bob. Give Jim my books, which are at Quanah, and my cameo ring. I want Ruth to have my watch and the breast pin that was our mother's. Give Helen White my engagement ring—the little one with the small diamonds. In the little bag is $15.00 that belongs to the Lord. Be sure to give it to the 'Salvation Army People,' to feed the poor and hungry.
"My clothes, turn over to Mollie and Ruth and what they don't want tell them to give to the poor. Of course, the diamond ring will be yours.
"I want you to keep my Bible and read it, because you will derive more comfort from it than all else besides. My prayers for you have always been mingled with those for myself, and I hope they have not been in vain.
"Please see that my grave has plenty of trees, so that the birds may build their nests in them. Give Ruth my black silk dress, which is at Wichita Falls. Get Ruth or Mollie to help you find the things.
"I am sorry for every cross word or look that I ever gave you, but feel sure you will not hold them against me.
"With lots of love—Good-by.
"Rhoda."
He took her to Greenville, Texas, for burial, for they had no settled home, while in Greenville there were relatives. Then he returned to Edna to carry out the mission which in her last spoken words to him she had bade him fulfil.