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Updated: June 3, 2025
He then crept into one of the "bunks," having first placed a revolver in easy reach, according to the custom of the country. This revolver he took from a shelf, and it was the one which Mr. Beeson had mentioned as that for which he had returned to the Gulch two years before. In a few moments Mr. Beeson awoke, and seeing that his guest had retired he did likewise.
A more desolate and dreary spot than Deadman's Gulch in a winter midnight it is impossible to imagine. Yet Mr. Hiram Beeson elected to live there, the sole inhabitant. Away up the side of the North Mountain his little pine-log shanty projected from its single pane of glass a long, thin beam of light, and looked not altogether unlike a black beetle fastened to the hillside with a bright new pin.
The folded paper within contained a five-dollar bank note. That was enough to pump the blood to my face with a rush. It was an insult a shame, first hand. A shoddy plaster, applied to me to me, Frank Beeson, a gentleman, whether to be viewed as a plucked greenhorn or not.
"So I came. But you're afraid of him of that breed, that vest-pocket killer. And you're afraid of me, a woman whose cards are all on the table. There isn't a one of you even you, Mr. Beeson, sir, whom I tried to befriend although you may not know it." And she turned upon me. "You have not a word to say. I am never going back, I tell you all. You won't take me, any of you? Very well."
Beeson also, if he chooses," said she. "I have my manners in mind, too." "By gosh, I don't walk with ye," he jawed. And in a huff, like the big boy that he was, he flounced about, vengefully striding on as though punishing her for a misdemeanor. She dropped the grinning group a little curtsy. A demure sparkle was in her eyes. "The entertainment is concluded, gentlemen. I wish you good-night."
I am so afraid of his loud voice." "Girls, cease whispering and go to sleep. The night will be none too long," called their mother. Marie wiped some tears from her eyes. But it was a great comfort to her when she was going to church the next Sunday and walking behind the Bronelle girls to hear Hortense say: "I have my cap set for Tony Beeson.
"Ma fille," said her mother when the lover had wished them all good night, rather awkwardly, and her father had gone out to walk with him; "ma fille, Monsieur Beeson has done us the honor to ask for thy hand. He is a good, steady, well-to-do man with a nice home to take thee to. He does not carouse nor spend his money foolishly, but will always stay at home with thee, and make thee happy.
Richard Darrell usually finished banking his season's cut a month earlier than anybody else. Then he drew his pay at Beeson Lake, took the train for Bay City, and set out to have a good time. Whiskey was its main element. On his intensely nervous organisation it acted like poison. He would do the wildest things.
When it becomes still more attractive fascinating we put seven feet of earth above it. "Sir," said Mr. Beeson, releasing the old man's hand, which fell passively against his thigh with a quiet clack, "it is an extremely disagreeable night. Pray be seated; I am very glad to see you." Mr. Beeson spoke with an easy good breeding that one would hardly have expected, considering all things.
The procession changed about a little, the young men walking with the demoiselles and whispering in their listening ears. Jeanne was with them. Madame De Ber was quite gracious, and Marie Beeson singled her out. It had been a cold winter and a backward spring and Marie had not gone anywhere. Tony was so exigent, and she laughed and bridled.
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