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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

She was
a wild one, all right.
"She was so wild that Drew, after they got married, took her over on the
far side of the range and built that old house that's rottin' there
now. Bard, he left the range and wasn't never seen again, far as I
know."
It was clear to Anthony, bitterly clear. His father had had a grim scene
in parting with Drew and had placed the continent between them. And in
the Eastern states he had met that black-eyed girl, his mother, and
loved her because she was so much like the wild daughter of Piotto. The
girl Joan in dying had probably extracted from Drew a promise that he
would kill Bard, and that promise he had lived to fulfil.
"So Joan died?" he queried.
"Yep, and was buried under them two trees in front of the house. I don't
think she lived long after they was married, but about that nobody
knows. They was clear off by themselves and there isn't any one can tell
about their life after they was married. All we know is that Drew didn't
get over her dyin'. He ain't over it yet, and goes out to the old place
every month or so to potter around the grave and keep the grass and the
weeds off of it and clean the head-stone.


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