Image provided by: Texas A&M University
About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (April 12, 1933)
26 Jr Prize Winning Story in The Hattalion y s Short Story Contest THE BATTALION ■ 1 » r f A ' A 1 T 1* A c^: • if * 11 ’ 1 . •4 • j 7 If? I N THE SPRING OF THE TEAR M«rlen**Bwibold rode into the county seel from the Baggibold ranch, which waa twenty milea hack in the coubpry. Ihe Bargibolds kept pretty much to theniM'lvea, and ao aone of the people ot the town were surprised at the abaent minded way m which ahe re plied to their greetings. She hook her horse to the town cor ral and walked back to the New Antlers Houae. Half an hour later, when ahe came oiBtof the Hotel she had changed her half- male attire of the saddle for \ Hue polka-dot dress and a hat with black cherries on it. She carried under her arm a package wrapped in newspapers. Later, they remembered that her man ner had been that of a sleepwalker. She walked to the office of Sheriff Davis, who at the time- was over at the postoffice. She waited until the Sheriff came hack, sitting in one of the wide comfortable chairs in front of his office. “Hello, Mrs. Baggibold." cried Davis. “It sore is good to see you again. Am herw is old Trigve?** Marlene unwrapped the newspaper bundles. From it she ! took a staaljkitchen knife and laid it on Davis's desk. “I killed old Trigte,** she said. “Better arrest me. I { reckon. I did it last August. I j ist couldn’t stand it any long- r er. An undersheriff rode back t) the Baggibold ranch, which * huddled deep in a snadouy canyoiL He found old Trigve's body buried under a gnarled black tipple tree; a shining saddle tiudded with silver naila to form the initials 'T. P.” on the rail in the bunk house;.)and an empty shell that would fit a thirty-thirty carbine. I- . ‘ . Folks of the Lazy bleep coc ntry recalled many incidents that had been dismissed and forWotten in the wide range of Trigve Baggibolcfs eccentricities. Marlene, when she went to ^ourt, told a good deal that Sle^p folks had guessed, and a great deal more that they hadn’t Trigve Baggibold would havu been sixty in the spring of * '' . f • ! L when Marlene rode into the county seat. He was as and as gnarly as the black trunk of the apple tree. He led with half his mouth and said rankling words with the amused chuckle of a malicious old man—words about things that people cherished. Old Trigve was not popular in the Lazy Sleep country, but remained an ancient vision of him that demanded respect, had been one of the builders of the state, one of the builders had made its construction profitable to himself. Long Tore the railroad had stretched across the desert—he took a in that, toot but with a plump contract instead of a pick— >ld had marched with the pioneers. He had become a -room dictator of politics, and in the state capital was as a man of Borgian gesture—unpitying, relentless, and always a bit sardonic. He had been a wild one, even in his later days at Use state capital. His clothers were miracles of Ihphion, neat but gaudy. His drinking had been terrible, and there had been noisy brawls in his big house on the hill, em- barassingly near the governor’s own mansion. Then Baggibold had come to the Lazy Sleep country. This * was never explained, except that once, when he drove his buck- board into town for provisions, he had told Sheriff Davis, whom he had known in the capital, that he was weary of looking at people's faces. That didn’t explain why he had brought Mar lene to Lazy Sleep with him—or why she came. “I was very young,’* she said in court, “and I had always lived in the city, and had always wanted to live where there were trees and hills and litUe streams.** Her voice was calm as she said it, but she closed her eyes and two tears seeped jndt*r the lids and rolled down her cheeks. They were the onlr. tears she shed during the trial. She was thirty then. It had been ten years since old Trigve had brought her to the Lazy Sleep country. There were hills, magic hills, that gathered pool* of lavender in their cool canyons while the sun, still going down, lacquered their peaks with gold, and friendly, L K