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Updated: May 6, 2025
Jack Blome and his men had been in Linrock for several days; old Snecker and his son Bo had reappeared, and other hard-looking customers, new to me if not to Linrock. These helped to create a charged and waiting atmosphere. The saloons did unusual business and were never closed. Respectable citizens of the town were awakened in the early dawn by rowdies carousing in the streets.
"Indeed I'd feel safer," she replied. "There are rooms. Please come." "Allright. An' now I'll be goin' to fetch Hal. Shore wish I hadn't made you pale an' scared like this." About ten o'clock next morning Carmichael drove Helen and Bo into Pine, and tied up the team before Widow Cass's cottage.
Bo did not grasp her uncle's bantering, because she was seriously gazing at the cowboy. But she had grasped something. "He he was the first person out West to speak kindly to us," she said, facing her uncle. "Wal, thet's a pretty good word, but it ain't enough," responded Al. Subdued laughter came from the listening group. Carmichael shifted from side to side.
Helen realized then that whatever his calling, hunter or wanderer or hermit, he was not uneducated, even if he appeared illiterate. "I'll be happy to learn from you," she said. "Me, too!" chimed in Bo. "You can't tell too much to any one from Missouri." He smiled, and that warmed Helen to him, for then he seemed less removed from other people.
"Bo, will you listen to me if I swear to speak the truth as I know it?" "Why, certainly," replied Bo, with the color coming swiftly to her face. "Roy doesn't want me to know because he wants to meet thet fellar himself. An' I want to know because I want to stop him before he can do more dirt to us or our friends. Thet's Roy's reason an' mine. An' I'm askin' YOU to tell me."
He inspected Bailey with a pair of brilliant brown eyes which no detail of his appearance could escape. And Bailey, that morning, as has been said, was not looking his best. "You're lookin' kind o' sick, bo," was Steve's comment. "I guess you was hittin' it up with the gang last night in one of them lobster parlours."
"That's all right," he exclaimed. "That's all right. He ain't had it easy, you know. Scrubbing spittoons is enough to take the polish off any guy. I'm telling you he's there. Forty ways. You'll see, bo. You'll see." "I'm waiting," I said. "Keep right on," Sheener advised me. "Keep right on. The old stuff is there. It'll show. Take it from me." I laughed at him.
She took it, tried to get her foot out of the stirrups, and then she slid from the saddle into Dale's arms. He placed her on her feet and, supporting her, said, solicitously: "A hundred-mile ride in three days for a tenderfoot is somethin' your uncle Al won't believe.... Come, walk if it kills you!" Whereupon he led Bo, very much as if he were teaching a child to walk.
It was not conceivable what he could do, except annoy her, until she arrived at Pine. Her uncle was to meet her or send for her at Snowdrop, which place, Helen knew, was distant a good long ride by stage from Magdalena. This stage-ride was the climax and the dread of all the long journey, in Helen's considerations. "Oh, Nell!" cried Bo, with delight. "We're nearly there!
With an eye to fidelity, a small brood of small chickens, half dead with bad air and not larger than fists, huddled rearward and out of the grilling light puny victims to an indorsed method of correspondence-school advertising. Mr. Connors entered, scouting out a dozy clerk. "Say, bo, what's one of them chicks worth?" "Ain't fer sale." Mr. Connors lowered his voice, nudging.
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