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Updated: June 18, 2025
Beaudry knew that he was being cross-examined and his study of law had taught him that he had better stick to the truth so far as possible. He turned to Miss Rutherford. "Your friend is bawling me out," he gayly pretended to whisper. "I never sold a windmill in my life. But I'm on my uppers. I've got a good proposition. This country needs the Dynamo Aermotor and I need the money.
She looked proudly into his eyes with that little flare of feminine ferocity in hers. "I won't have it any other way, Roy Beaudry. You're the man I'm going to marry, the man who is going to be the father of my children if God gives me any. No blood stands between us nothing but the memory of brave men who misunderstood each other and were hurt because of it.
I don't know anybody Washington County could spare better. There'll be no complaint, I reckon." The little Irishman shook his head. "That would go fine if you had shot him, Dave, or if Mr. Beaudry here had. But with me it's different. I've been sivinteen years living down a reputation as a hellion. This ain't going to do me any good. Folks will say it was a case of one bad man wiping out another.
Beulah went into the house the same gay and light-hearted comrade of Beaudry that she had been all morning. When he was called in to dinner, he saw at once that Tighe had laid his spell upon her. She was again the sullen, resentful girl of yesterday. Suspicion filmed her eyes.
Hal was still on the porch when Roy rode up, but Beulah was nowhere in sight. The young hillman did not look up from the rivet he was driving. Beaudry swung to the ground and came forward. "I'm leaving now. I should like to tell Miss Rutherford how much I'm in her debt for taking a stranger in so kindly," he faltered. "I reckon you took her in just as much as she did you, Mr. Spy."
A man looking for revenge could crouch in the chaparral and with a crook of his finger send winged death at his enemy. A twig crackling under the hoof of his horse more than once sent an electric shock through his pulses. The crash of a bear through the brush seemed to stop the beating of his heart. Charlton had made a mistake in putting Beaudry on the extreme right of the drive.
I never was satisfied with the way we did it. When Jack Beaudry shot you up, he was fighting for his life. We attacked him. You got no right to hold it against his son." "I don't ask you to come in. I'll fix his clock all right." "Nothing doing. I won't have it." Rutherford, by a stroke of strategy, carried the war into the country of the other.
Roy forced himself by sheer will power to ride alone into Battle Butte once a week. Without hurry he went about his business up and down Mission Street. The town watched him and commented. "Got sand in his craw, young Beaudry has," was the common verdict. Men wondered what would happen when he met Charlton and Meldrum.
Meldrum carried with him to Battle Butte, on his first trip after the arcade affair, a fixed determination to avoid Beaudry. In case he met him, he would pass without speaking. But all of Meldrum's resolutions were apt to become modified by subsequent inhibitions. In company with one or two cronies he made a tour of the saloons of the town.
He looked wildly around for a way of escape and found none. A half ring of jeering faces walled him from the street. "Lemme get at him. Lemme crack him one on the bean," insisted Meldrum as he made a wild pass at Beaudry. "No hurry a-tall," soothed Ned. "We got all evening before us. Take yore time, Dan." "Looks to me like it's certainly up to Mr.
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