Judith of the Godless Valley. Honoré Willsie Morrow

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       Honoré Willsie Morrow

      Judith of the Godless Valley

      Published by Good Press, 2020

       [email protected]

      EAN 4064066074166

Table of Contents

       Lost Chief Schoolhouse

       Oscar Jefferson

       The Graduation Dance

       The House in the Yellow Canyon

       The Hunt on Lost Chief

       Little Swift Crosses the Divide

       The Post-Office Conference

       Judith at the Rodeo

       The Trip to Mountain City

       Wild Horses

       The Log Chapel

       The First Sermon

       Prince Goes Marching On

       The Battle of the Bulls

       The Flame in the Valley

       The Trail Over the Pass

       Black Devil Pass

       Elijah Nelson's Ranch

       Home

      ​

      Lost Chief Schoolhouse

       Table of Contents

      CHAPTER I

      "To believe in a living God; to preach His Holy Writ without fear or favor; to sacrifice self that others may find eternal life; this is true happiness."

       —The Rev. James Fowler.

      IT was Sunday in Lost Chief; Sunday and mid-winter. For the first time in nearly ten years there was to be a sermon preached in the valley and every one who could move was making his way to the schoolhouse.

      Douglas Spencer drove his spurs into Buster and finished the last hundred yards at a gallop. Judith, his foster sister, stood up in her stirrups, lashed Swift vigorously over the flanks with the knotted reins and when Buster slid on his haunches to the very doorstep, Swift brought her gnarled fore legs down on his sweeping tail and slid with him. She brought up when he did with her nose under his saddle blanket. The boy and girl avoided a mix-up by leaping from their saddles and jerking their mounts apart.

      "Now look at here, Jude!" shouted Douglas, "you keep that ornery cow-pony of yours off of me or I'll make you sorry for it!"

      Judith put her thumb to her small red nose, and without touching the stirrups leaped back into the saddle. Then she looked calmly about her.

      "First ones here!" she said complacently. "Even the preacher hasn't come."

      ​"I suppose,"—Doug's voice was bitter—"that if I rode over toward Day's to meet Jimmy you'd have to tag!"

      "I sure-gawd would. Swift would like the extra exercise."

      Douglas swept Judith's thin bay mare with a withering glance. "That thing! Looks like the coyotes had been at it!"

      Judith wore but one spur and this had a broken rowell, but she kicked Swift with it and Swift whirled against the nervous Buster and bit him on the cheek. Buster reared. "Take that back, you dogy cowboy you!" shrieked Judith.

      Douglas brought Buster round and raised his hand to strike the girl. She eyed him fearlessly. The boy slowly lowered the threatening hand and returned her gaze, belligerently.

      Prince, a gray, short-haired dog, of intricate ancestry, squatted on his haunches in the snow with his tongue between his teeth and his eyes on the two horses. Swift sagged with a sigh onto three legs. Perhaps the little mare deserved some of the aspersions Douglas and his father daily cast upon her. She was a half-broken, half-fed little mare which Douglas' father had cast off. She did not look strong enough to bear even Judith's slim weight. But as the only horse Judith was permitted to call her own, the little bay was the very apple of the young girl's eyes, and she wheedled wonderful performances from Swift in endurance and cat-like quickness.

      Buster was a black which the older Spencer had bred as a cow-pony but had given up because he could not be broken of bucking. Doug had bested his father for the horse, and Buster, nervous, irritable and speedy, was a joy to the boy's sixteen-year-old heart.

      Douglas sat tall in the saddle. He measured, in fact, ​a full five feet ten inches without his high-heeled riding-boots. He was so thin that his leather rider's coat bellowed in the wind, and the modeling of his cheekbones showed markedly under his tanned skin. His sombrero, pushed back from his forehead, disclosed a thick thatch of bright yellow hair above wide blue eyes that were set deep and far apart. His nose was high bridged, and his mouth, though still immature, gave promise of full-lipped strength in its curves.

      Judith was fourteen and only a couple of inches shorter than Douglas. She was even thinner than he, but, like him, glowing with intense vitality. She had hung her cap on the pommel of her saddle and her curly black hair whipped across her face. She had a short nose, a large mouth, magnificent gray eyes and cheeks of flawless carmine. She wore a faded plaid mackinaw, and arctics half-way up her long, thin legs.

      "I hate you, Doug Spencer," she said finally and fiercely, "and I'm glad you're not my real brother!"

      "I don't see why my father ever married a woman with an ornery brat like you!" retorted Douglas.

      "I wouldn't stay to associate with you another minute if you offered me a new pair of spurs! I'm going to meet Maud!" And Judith disappeared down the trail.

      Douglas eased back in his saddle and lighted a cigarette, while he watched the distant figures approaching across the valley. The glory of the landscape made little impression on him. He had been born in Lost Chief and he saw only snow and his schoolmates racing over the converging trails.

      The Rockies in mid-winter! High northern cattle country