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Your office is a farce. In the two years you've been mayor you've never arrested one rustler. Strange, when Linrock's a nest for rustlers! You've never sent a prisoner to Del Rio, let alone to Austin. You have no jail. "There have been nine murders since you took office, innumerable street fights and hold-ups. Not one arrest!
Joy at the sight of Mescal, blessed relief to see her unscathed, pride in her fighting spirit these came side by side with gratitude to the kind Nebraska rustler, strange deepening insight into Holderness's game, unextinguishable white-hot hatred of Snap Naab. And binding all was the ever-mounting will to rescue Mescal, which was held in check by an inexorable judgment; he must continue to wait.
"Wade, I've been a gambler all my life, an' a damn smart one, if I do say it myself," declared the rustler leader, his voice inharmonious with the facetiousness of his words. "An' I'll make a last bet." "Go ahead, Cap. What'll you bet?" answered the cold voice, still gentle, but different now in its inflection. "By Gawd!
Take him all round, pard, there never was a bullier man in the mines. No man ever knowed Buck Fanshaw to go back on a friend. But it's all up, you know, it's all up. It ain't no use. They've scooped him." "Scooped him?" "Yes death has. Well, well, well, we've got to give him up. Yes indeed. It's a kind of a hard world, after all, ain't it? But pard, he was a rustler!
They stationed themselves at the front and rear doors and windows with loaded weapons, on the alert to wing the first rustler who showed himself. Sterry found time to exchange a few words with Jennie and her mother. "It is too bad," he said, "to put you to this trouble and danger; but the rustlers outnumber us more than two to one, and it was the only hope that offered itself."
It had been a subtle thought; the words had been merely involuntary. By "We" the manager had thought that he had meant the entire outfit was to be held ready to apprehend the rustler. Leviatt had meant only himself and Tucson. And they were ready. Down in the blacksmith shop, while Ferguson had ridden in and stepped into the manager's office, had Leviatt and Tucson made their plan.
Folsom was on his knees, dyin', wavin' his gun, whisperin' in fiendish glee that he had done for me. When he saw Jack an' remembered he shook so with fury that he scattered blood all over. An' he took long aim at Jack, tryin' to steady his gun. He couldn't, an' he missed, an' then fell over dead with his head on Jack's knees. That left the red-bearded rustler, who had hid behind the chimney.
His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly upward while his pale eyes strove to pierce the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic smile. "Naab, you don't get the girl." "Maybe you'll get her?" hissed Snap. "I always intended to." Surely never before had passion driven Snap's hand to such speed.
In those days every cattleman was a little bit of a thief. Every cattleman drove in an' branded calves he couldn't swear was his. Wal, the Isbels were the strongest cattle raisers in that country. An' I laid a trap for Lee Jorth, caught him in the act of brandin' calves of mine I'd marked, an' I proved him a thief. I made him a rustler. I ruined him. We met once.
"They’re goin’ to get him for shore this time, soon as he comes out of jail; but would you guess it from her bluff?" There was no mistaking the fate of a rustler after Mr. Dax’s grisly demonstration, but of the quality of his calling Mary was as ignorant as before. "And why should they do that?" she inquired, with tenderfoot simplicity.
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