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Updated: September 18, 2025
Belding had kept the little border hamlet free of an establishment for distillation of the fiery cactus drink. A good many Americans drifted into Forlorn River miners, cowboys, prospectors, outlaws, and others of nondescript character; and these men, of course, made the saloon, which was also an inn, their headquarters.
"What for?" demanded Chet. That Laura would not tell him, only made him promise to do as she asked. Mother Wit had an idea; but she would not explain it to anybody yet. "How came you to meet Janet?" asked Laura Belding, remembering what her brother had first told her about the Red Cross girl. "She was coming my way, of course." "Coming your way?" Laura repeated, her eyebrows raised questioningly.
Filmer, who with the exception of Bowers and Belding, was closer to Clark than any of the rest, enlarged his store, and new shops began to appear nearer the rapids. Manson's premises were populated with an assortment from the small army of laborers at the works, and a new hotel was under construction. But, in the main, it was only by stress of business demands that any expansion was made.
Belding saw a powerful, spare, ragged man, with dark, gaunt face and eyes of flame. Then Nell came running from the house, her golden hair flying, her hands outstretched, her face wonderful. "Dick! Dick! Oh-h-h, Dick!" she cried. Her voice seemed to quiver in Belding's heart. Belding's eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw clearly.
"Are you afraid?" This certainly was not the Nell Burton that Gale knew. "No, I'm not afraid," Gale replied, a little nettled. "Will you go for my sake?" Like lightning her mood changed and she was close to him again, hands on his, her face white, her whole presence sweetly alluring. "Nell, I won't disobey Belding," protested Gale. "I won't break my word." "Dick, it'll not be so bad as that.
He then gave himself up to that duplex act to which all unavowed lovers are prone the simultaneous secret worship of one woman and open devotion to another. It never occurred to him that there was anything unfair in this, or that it would be as reprehensible to throw the name of Miss Dallas into the arena of gossip as that of Miss Belding.
"Aw, I didn't mean to insult you, boys, don't mistake me," said Belding. "Course he's all right." The object of this conversation lay quiet upon his bed, thrilling and amazed at being so championed by the cowboys, delighted with Belding's idea of employing him, and much amused with the quaint seriousness of the three. "How's the young man?" called a woman's voice.
Whether they're Campo's men or Salazar's, or just a wanderin' bunch of rebels or Rojas's bandits. Sabe, senor?" Not one of the men was able to translate the garbled scrawl. "Shore Mercedes can read it," said Ladd. Thorne opened a door and called her. She came into the room followed by Nell and Mrs. Belding. Evidently all three divined a critical situation.
Belding knew truth when he heard it. The revelation did not surprise him. Belding did not soften, for he devined that Chase's emotion was due to the probing of an old wound, the recalling of a past both happy and painful. Still, human nature was so strange that perhaps kindness and sympathy might yet have a place in this Chase's heart.
"My dear, we want you to read what's written on this paper," said Thorne, as he led her to the table. "It was sent in by rebels, and and we fear contains bad news for us." Mercedes gave the writing one swift glance, then fainted in Thorne's arms. He carried her to a couch, and with Nell and Mrs. Belding began to work over her. Belding looked at his rangers.
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