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Updated: June 22, 2025
Before he knew what had happened men were in the cabin. Some one struck a match. Young Pete cowered in a corner, all the fight oozing out of him as the lamp was lighted and he saw several men masked with bandannas. "The old man's done for," said one of them, stooping to look at Annersley. Another picked up the two empty shells from Annersley's rifle. "Where's the kid?" asked another.
She did not quite dare to tell Doctor Holiday as she had his nephew that she did not want to see Geoffrey Annersley nor to have to know she was married to him. It sounded horrid, but it was true. Sometimes she hated the very thought of Geoffrey Annersley. Later Doctor Holiday and his nephew went over the girl's case together from both the personal and professional angles.
Doris' gray eyes grew big as Pete spoke rapidly of his early life, of the horse-trader, of Annersley and Bailey and Montoya, and young Andy White characters who passed swiftly before her vision as she followed Pete's fortunes up to the moment when he was brought into the hospital.
When Sheriff Button arrived at the cabin he found the empty shells on the floor, noted the holes in the window, and read the story of the raid plainly. "Annersley shot to scare 'em off but the kid shot to kill," he argued. "And dam' if I blame him." Later, when Young Pete was able to talk, he was questioned by the sheriff.
At the store Annersley privately explained the situation to the storekeeper. Then he told Young Pete that he would leave him there for a few days as he was "goin' over north a spell." Young Pete studied the old man with bright, blinking eyes that questioned the truth of this statement. His pop had never lied to him, and although Pete suspected what was in the wind, he had no ground for argument.
He was shown in almost immediately, and a man somewhat of The Spider's type assured him that he was the president and, as he spoke, handed Pete a slip of paper such as Pete had never before seen. "You're Peter Annersley?" queried Hodges. "Yes. What's this here?" "It's more money than I'd want to carry with me on the street," said Hodges. "Have you anything that might identify you?"
"Yes," said Barnabas, steady-eyed; and immediately down came the curling lashes again, while with dexterous white fingers she began to transform the rope into a coronet. "I'm afraid it won't hold up," she said, giving her head a tentative shake, "though, fortunately, I haven't far to go." "How far?" asked Barnabas. "To Annersley House, sir."
Annersley climbed into the buckboard, gave Pete the lead-rope of the recent purchase, and clucked to his horse, paying no attention whatever to the volley of invectives behind him. "He'll git his gun and shoot you in the back," whispered Young Pete. "Nope, son. He'll jest go and git another drink and tell everybody in Concho how he's goin' to kill me some day.
He is fine everyway now, has really sloughed off the past just as he promised he would. So please, dear Uncle Phil, forgive me if I do what you don't want me to. I have to marry him. In my heart I am married to him already." And this was the letter Philip Holiday found at his place at breakfast on the morning of the day Geoffrey Annersley was expected. He read it gravely.
They drove to town, bought some provisions and ammunition, and incidentally the old man visited the sheriff and retailed the conversation that Pete had overheard. "Bluff!" said the sheriff, whose office depended upon the vote of the cattlemen. "Just bluff, Annersley. You hang on to what you got and they won't be no trouble. I know just how far those boys will go." "Well, I don't," said Annersley.
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