United States or Iran ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
I reckon we kin lick the hull of 'em. I got plenty cartridges." Despite the danger, old man Annersley smiled as he choked back a word of appreciation for Pete's stubborn loyalty and grit. When he spoke again Pete at once caught the change in tone. "You keep away from the window," said Annersley. "Them coyotes out there 'most like aim to rush me when the blaze dies down.
Later he had talked with the officials, visited the Mexican lodging-house, where he had obtained a description of the man who had occupied the room with Pete, and stopping at a restaurant for coffee and doughnuts, had finally arrived at the hospital prepared to hear what young Annersley had to say for himself.
They washed his wounds and one of the men set out toward Concho, to telephone to Enright for a doctor. The rest grouped around the stove and talked in low tones, waiting for daylight. "Chances are the kid went south," said Houck, half to himself. "How about young White?" queried a cowboy. "I dunno. Either he rode with Pete Annersley or he's back at the Concho. Daylight'll tell."
He had often seen the unshod and unbranded ponies of the high country run along a trail for a mile or so and then dash off across the open. Of course, if the posse took the direct trail to the border, paying no attention to tracks, they would eventually overtake him. Pete was done with the companionship of men who allowed the wanton killing of a man like Annersley to go unpunished.
"I'm going to close my account," stated The Spider. "Going south?" "No. I got some business in town. After that " "You mean you've got no business in town. Why didn't you write?" "You couldn't handle it. Make it out to Peter Annersley," said The Spider. "One of your gunmen, eh? I see by the papers he's got a poor chance of using this." "So have I," and The Spider almost smiled.
They'd be hell a-poppin' all over the range. Speakin' personal, I'm with you to the finish, for I know how you feel about Pop Annersley. But you ain't growed up yet. You got plenty time to think. If you are a-hankerin' for Gary's scalp, when you git to be twenty-one, why, go to it. But you're a kid yet, and a whole lot can happen in five or six years. Mebby somebody'll git Gary afore then.
"I found it on a bramble-bush in a wood," said Barnabas. "In a wood!" "In Annersley Wood; I found a lady there also." "A lady oh, egad!" "A very beautiful woman," said Barnabas thoughtfully, "with wonderful yellow hair!" "The Lady Cleone Meredith!" exclaimed the Viscount, "but in a wood!" "She had fallen from her horse." "How? When? Was she hurt?"
Pete was glad that Annersley would never know of all this and yet it seemed as though Annersley could see these things and Pete, standing alone in the room, felt as though he were in some way to blame for this disorder and squalidness. Time and occupation had rather dulled Pete's remembrance of the actual detail of the place, but now its original neatness and orderliness came back to him vividly.
The anonymous letter was a vile screed because it was anonymous and also because it threatened, in innuendo, to burn out a homestead held by one man and a boy. Annersley showed the letter to Pete and helped him spell it out. Then he explained gravely his own status as a homesteader, the law which allowed him to fence the water, and the labor which had made the land his.
Next day, after the riders had departed, he told his pop what he had heard. The old man made him repeat the conversation. He shook his head. "Mostly talk," he said. "They dassent to start runnin' us off dast they?" queried Young Pete. "Mostly talk," reiterated Annersley; but Pete saw that his pop was troubled. "They can't bluff us, eh, pop?" "I reckon not, son. How many cartridges you got?"
Word Of The Day