clearly detectable mumble at one end
of the giant dining hall in which a fam-
iliar discussion had begun to engross the
men from the North and South sides of
the border, a tradition that had begun
years ago. The two traditions: one
was the dinner they were now enjoying
together, one of only four times a year
in which they officially mingled, these
two factions (of course they were not
the first...) that inhabited the local
land. And the other tradition was the
subject with which they were by now
fully entertaining, with mostly respect
and only a few loud voices coming from
a smattering of red-faced fogies: talk of
a long-ago love affair, a suicide, a murder
or three, another purported suicide that
ended it all — or one would think. But.
Perhaps it was just the story about the
border, between the two states, an old
and very random wooden fencerow (a
property signifier, they still liked to call
it — by which I suggest that the discussion
captured the attention and engaged all
of those at the table: those from north
of the old fence, and those who resided
to the south of it), well, that fence was to
become the basis for the official border
between the Dakotas at this time. It was
1889. The party in this grand ballroom
(the joke about in the middle of nowhere
was beginning to be grumbled) always
got a bit rowdy at this point. The con-
versation was not exactly a tradition. It
was just something not to be forgotten.
Not by these men. And this was the
one time it always was brought up. The
Lindseys weren’t really thinking about
the crows that dropped to the fence every
day about the same time; an ominous
sense of foreboding thought the Milliners
(some had already reduced the name to
Miller, but they were still mostly called
the Milliners in this era), but they were
thinking more about the women, and how
it could not be escaped that those from
one side of the fence had a certain
homeliness (some even used the word
possessed) look about them. On the
other side were deemed the beauties.
On this notion, both sides most often
agreed. These were quintessentially
male arguments, of course; the women
were yet to be allowed at the function,
except for the cooking and the cleaning.
Not to be heard or hardly seen. And now
this gathering of men had moved on to the
more jovial topic, that always followed the
grumbling about the randomness or the clear
thievery of the fencerow that became a border
and would always round out the evening: they
began to speak of the love story between the
an up-and-coming young man on one side of
the fence who fell for a low-lady, as they
were often still called, from the opposite
side. This was, of course, anathema to the
tribesmen. But, always, as this nostal-
gic epic took over the conversation,
the rowdiness became congeniality
and literal awe for the lovers on both
sides of the fence and what became
of their love, which was tragic.
Although no one was present
at the table that had actually
known either party, it had become
a bit of a legend; a sort of modern-
day equivalent to the Capulets versus
the Montagues in Romeo and Juliet,
even though none of these men likely
knew a thing about Shakespeare
except, perhaps that Shakespeare
was Shakespeare [sic?]. This part of the
discussion carried inevitably on into the
parlor that wrapped the giant old home
and took up what must have been an acre
of the dry surface of what was normally
a cracked earth template toppled with
incessant and swiftly-flowing tumble-
weed during the months when the
surface of the earth was not snow-
covered.
The youngest of the Lindsey men eventually
managed manipulatively but somewhat
subtly (he did have a golden tongue, or
so it was often repeated) to veer the talk
one side of the fence had a certain
homeliness (some even used the word
possessed) look about them. On the
other side were deemed the beauties.
On this notion, both sides most often
agreed. These were quintessentially
male arguments, of course; the women
were yet to be allowed at the function,
except for the cooking and the cleaning.
Not to be heard or hardly seen. And now
this gathering of men had moved on to the
more jovial topic, that always followed the
grumbling about the randomness or the clear
thievery of the fencerow that became a border
and would always round out the evening: they
began to speak of the love story between the
an up-and-coming young man on one side of
the fence who fell for a low-lady, as they
were often still called, from the opposite
side. This was, of course, anathema to the
tribesmen. But, always, as this nostal-
gic epic took over the conversation,
the rowdiness became congeniality
and literal awe for the lovers on both
sides of the fence and what became
of their love, which was tragic.
Although no one was present
at the table that had actually
known either party, it had become
a bit of a legend; a sort of modern-
day equivalent to the Capulets versus
the Montagues in Romeo and Juliet,
even though none of these men likely
knew a thing about Shakespeare
except, perhaps that Shakespeare
was Shakespeare [sic?]. This part of the
discussion carried inevitably on into the
parlor that wrapped the giant old home
and took up what must have been an acre
of the dry surface of what was normally
a cracked earth template toppled with
incessant and swiftly-flowing tumble-
weed during the months when the
surface of the earth was not snow-
covered.
The youngest of the Lindsey men eventually
managed manipulatively but somewhat
subtly (he did have a golden tongue, or
so it was often repeated) to veer the talk
toward the story of the lady he called the
Frippery Gaul Girl that he currently had
more than just his eyes on (this particular
frontier's Romeo of the moment, this young
Lindsey fellow turned out to be). He made
Frippery Gaul Girl that he currently had
more than just his eyes on (this particular
frontier's Romeo of the moment, this young
Lindsey fellow turned out to be). He made
his way to the parlor first, which wrapped
neat clean around the full front of the
mansion (which is what everyone still
called the old Dullmyer place to this day,
even though it now served as more of a
traditional meeting hall, and yet in this
case, the word mansion was an appropriate
description), a place which swore out most
all frontier creatures small enough to sift
through the windows as well as those large
or wily enough to break through the windows
or even the doors (the screens of both of
which had been special-made in Sweden
of the extraordinary exquisitely-stitched
linen-like but vividly see-through tiny
wires). One of the screen doors was
closed and there seemed no way out of
it from the inside and, one always had
to imagine, had no easy way to enter
from the other side, unless you were
one of those fantastical creatures
microscopic. All of this created a
sense of peace for these third-gen-
eration settlers whose progenitors
had originally been warring factions.
It had begun with one outspoken
family from a few miles east with a
grudge against the longstanding
family of old world money. The
monied clan had already been living
here longer than anyone knew by
the time the tensions even arose.
There was always much discussion
about how and why this grudge began.
Everything about this monied family was
near ancient now, but there still remained
the sweet and spoiled youngest heir, Julie
(yes, a name so similar to those of the
many such quarterly round-table discussions
which transpired here ar the old Dullmyer
mansion (the Dullmyers, as has been noted,
being that old wealth family of local lore).
neat clean around the full front of the
mansion (which is what everyone still
called the old Dullmyer place to this day,
even though it now served as more of a
traditional meeting hall, and yet in this
case, the word mansion was an appropriate
description), a place which swore out most
all frontier creatures small enough to sift
through the windows as well as those large
or wily enough to break through the windows
or even the doors (the screens of both of
which had been special-made in Sweden
of the extraordinary exquisitely-stitched
linen-like but vividly see-through tiny
wires). One of the screen doors was
closed and there seemed no way out of
it from the inside and, one always had
to imagine, had no easy way to enter
from the other side, unless you were
one of those fantastical creatures
microscopic. All of this created a
sense of peace for these third-gen-
eration settlers whose progenitors
had originally been warring factions.
It had begun with one outspoken
family from a few miles east with a
grudge against the longstanding
family of old world money. The
monied clan had already been living
here longer than anyone knew by
the time the tensions even arose.
There was always much discussion
about how and why this grudge began.
Everything about this monied family was
near ancient now, but there still remained
the sweet and spoiled youngest heir, Julie
(yes, a name so similar to those of the
many such quarterly round-table discussions
which transpired here ar the old Dullmyer
mansion (the Dullmyers, as has been noted,
being that old wealth family of local lore).
But that story is for another time. This eve-
ning, around that grand table in a place that
seemed destined to retell a Shakespearian
tragic love story four times a year, despite
the general ignorance in these parts of that
certain universal British playwright and poet.
And so they did, well into the evening.
Young Lindsey and his best mate,
clearly meant by Lindsey to attend
solely as a companion to remain
unnoticeable, finally, indeed rather un-
noticeably, lit his pipe and began the ritual-
istic trek toward the door, a sort of a double-
file hand-shaking ceremony out of the
mansion door and into the night,
as was the tradition, with each man
taking off toward his respective home,
whether it stood on this side of the
border fence or on the other.
As he was walking out, In fact,
the young Lindsey's awe of the
this new woman who he intended
to make his wife engulfed him into
the realization that she was not so very
frippery at all. She was so very near his
age, which was an unheard-of character-
istic of the general courting which trans-
pired in the area. And as he walked out
into the moonlight he suddenly realized
how terribly he had mischaracterized his
love, had indeed not even realized what
it was about the young Miss Gaul that
really caught his fancy. And this realiz-
ation gave him a pleasant pause. Not
an uncomfortable nor a worrisome
one. But, quite simply, he opened
his eyes to the fact that he loved
her for she was remarkably full
of intelligence. One might even
say that she was combustible
with sage wisdom. Fancy that,
he thought as he left the cam-
araderie of the former foes’
traditional gathering. And
he began to take on a strik-
ingly abnormal spring to his
gait thanks to an unusual lightness
of his person, the back of the soles
of his makeshift shoes never seem-
ingly making contact with the earth,
never resting from tired ankles,
as if a man on a very important
mission, for the miles that he walked
on his way back home that night, look-
ing ever so forward to seeing the
handsome Miss Gaul at the earl-
iest possible convenience. Yes,
the absolute earliest possible
time, he kept saying in
his head, with a smile
that brought on the
most engaging
dimples. Which
was a trait of the
men from both sides
of the wall that rep-
resented the border
between the old
warring factions had
ning, around that grand table in a place that
seemed destined to retell a Shakespearian
tragic love story four times a year, despite
the general ignorance in these parts of that
certain universal British playwright and poet.
And so they did, well into the evening.
Young Lindsey and his best mate,
clearly meant by Lindsey to attend
solely as a companion to remain
unnoticeable, finally, indeed rather un-
noticeably, lit his pipe and began the ritual-
istic trek toward the door, a sort of a double-
file hand-shaking ceremony out of the
mansion door and into the night,
as was the tradition, with each man
taking off toward his respective home,
whether it stood on this side of the
border fence or on the other.
As he was walking out, In fact,
the young Lindsey's awe of the
this new woman who he intended
to make his wife engulfed him into
the realization that she was not so very
frippery at all. She was so very near his
age, which was an unheard-of character-
istic of the general courting which trans-
pired in the area. And as he walked out
into the moonlight he suddenly realized
how terribly he had mischaracterized his
love, had indeed not even realized what
it was about the young Miss Gaul that
really caught his fancy. And this realiz-
ation gave him a pleasant pause. Not
an uncomfortable nor a worrisome
one. But, quite simply, he opened
his eyes to the fact that he loved
her for she was remarkably full
of intelligence. One might even
say that she was combustible
with sage wisdom. Fancy that,
he thought as he left the cam-
araderie of the former foes’
traditional gathering. And
he began to take on a strik-
ingly abnormal spring to his
gait thanks to an unusual lightness
of his person, the back of the soles
of his makeshift shoes never seem-
ingly making contact with the earth,
never resting from tired ankles,
as if a man on a very important
mission, for the miles that he walked
on his way back home that night, look-
ing ever so forward to seeing the
handsome Miss Gaul at the earl-
iest possible convenience. Yes,
the absolute earliest possible
time, he kept saying in
his head, with a smile
that brought on the
most engaging
dimples. Which
was a trait of the
men from both sides
of the wall that rep-
resented the border
between the old
warring factions had
in common, for of
