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After much wandering your letter did reach me up in the Big Horn mountains. I took
it
back to Red Cloud3 to answer it, but there,
just when we were all so happy, Father4 had a
terrible attack of angina, the first serious illness of his life. For the present
he
is better, and I hurried back to New York2
to give up this apartment5, where I have
been for fifteen years, and to put all my books and goods into storage. I am in the
midst of that doleful process now, having got back only the day before yesterday.
I
had taken passage for France6 on the 30th,
but I can’t go when Father has an illness which can only terminate in one way.
Probably I shall trail West again as soon as this packing ordeal is over. You can
always reach me through the Knopf office, however. I honestly don’t know where I am
going to be. My broh unmarried brother, Douglass7, will take Father and Mother8 to California9 for the winter if Father is well enough to go.
I can’t properly answer your letter, dear Dorothy, because I’ve almost forgotten I ever wrote the Archbishop10,- so much has happened since then. I suppose some of the pleasure I had in following those two noble churchmen11 will go on to others, - though I can’t see many people in a moving-picture-world caring much about a book with no woman in it but the Virgin Mary. I wanted to save something of those remote places before they are gone for ever. Tomorrow, the movie cameras will be at Acoma12. Forgive me that I have no spirit to thank you. Deep in my heart I am happy that I was able to make you see a little of what has bewitched me down there for so long.
With my love, dear Dorothy Willa