The day they left Bill drove us all to the station. We just made the train, which was standing on the track as we arrived. Owen hurried to check the Van Winkle’s baggage. Bill had to stay with the horses. Alice and I had all the wraps, which left Clarence to carry two dress suit cases across the tracks. His eyes were fixed on the porter and he was hurrying toward the Pullman when he stubbed his toe on one rail, sprawled all the way across the track and hit his neck on the second rail. The suit cases flew in one direction, his hat in another, his glasses fell off and his watch dropped out of his pocket. Alice and I rushed to the rescue, the porter assisted Clarence to his feet and picked up the suit cases, we gathered up the rest of the articles while Clarence stood in the middle of the track rubbing his knees, to the great amusement of the passengers. Alice went up to him when suddenly he screwed his face up as a child does before it begins to cry, threw both arms around her neck and buried his face on her shoulder. The conductor terminated the scene by calling “All aboard”. Clarence limped to the train, rubbing his neck, and the last we saw was Alice holding all the wraps, the hat, glasses and watch, waving to us from the vestibule and Clarence comfortably seated in the Pullman smiling a wan farewell through the window. As the train with its precious freight was lost to sight around a curve, Owen and I began to laugh. We laughed until we were so weak we could scarcely get into the wagon. Bill’s face was perfectly serious, but his eyes had a little twinkle in them as he said with his slow drawl:
“Lord, Mrs. Brook, I’m glad that young man married that girl. He’d orter have somebody look after him. A poor little goslin’ feller like that ain’t got no business goin’ round alone.”
Bill always sized up a situation in the fewest possible words.
During the drive back to the ranch I thought of Alice and her future by the side of a man of that type. Our future was uncertain enough, but if trouble and vicissitudes were our portion, at least I had someone with whom to share them.
Tex had been away for several weeks and we were surprised to see him at the gate as we drove up. He looked very serious as he asked Owen if he might speak with him and Owen looked more serious when he came out of the office after their conversation.
“What is it, Owen? Something is wrong. Please tell me.”
Owen took me by the arm and we walked up and down under the trees.
“Tex came over to tell me, Esther, that I am to be arrested for ‘driving cattle off the range.’ Technically, it’s a serious charge, carrying a heavy fine and—” he paused—“imprisonment, but don’t worry, my dear,” as he felt me start a little at his last words, “it’s listed on the statute books as a criminal offence, connected with rustling, but that can’t hold in this case. It’s a ‘frame-up’ to give me trouble, that’s all. It might have been serious but Tex heard of it and came to warn me just in time. There’s been a plot to eat me out and now they want to drive me out. I’m going in to Denver to see my lawyer tomorrow. I’m more troubled on your account than anything else.”
“Don’t worry about me, Owen, we’re going to stay in this country and fight it out to the end. I’ll face anything, as long as you don’t cry,” and we went into the house laughing, as we thought of Clarence Van Winkle.
The miserable experience which followed was sufficiently serious, even after the charge had been changed to one of minor character.