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Updated: June 7, 2025
Law boasted a liberal education, but he was no match for the father of Jonesville, who wielded a cue with a dexterity born of years of devotion to the game. In consequence, Blaze's enjoyment was in a fair way to languish when the proprietor of the Elite Billiard Parlor returned from supper to say: "Mr. Jones, there's a real good pool-player in town, and he wants to meet you."
Unless the fellow gave himself up, he probably could not be found, now that the alarm was given, without a considerable search in view of which Dave finally remounted his borrowed horse and rode away in the direction of Jonesville. It was after daylight when he dismounted stiffly at Blaze's gate.
In spite of Blaze's plaintive tone it was patent that he was inordinately proud of Paloma and well content with his serfdom. Jonesville proved to be a typical Texas town of the modern variety, and altogether different to the pictured frontier village. There were no one-storied square fronts, no rows of saloons with well-gnawed hitching-rails, no rioting cowboys.
I don't sleep good, my heart's actin' up, I've got rheumatism, my stomach feels like I'd swallowed something alive " "You're smoking too much," Alaire affirmed, with conviction. But skepticism aroused Blaze's indignation. With elaborate sarcasm he retorted: "I reckon that's why my best team of mules run away and dragged me through a ten-acre patch of grass burrs on my belly, eh?
Law ventured to remark that none of Blaze's enemies had grown fat in prosecuting their feuds, but this was a subject which the elder man invariably found embarrassing, and now he said: "Pshaw! I never was the blood-letter people think. I'm as gentle as a sheep." Then to escape further curiosity on that point he suggested that they round out their riotous evening with a game of pool.
Strange herself opened the kitchen door to inquire, "Is anything wrong?" Misreading Blaze's expression for one of pain, she exclaimed: "Mercy! Now, what have you done to yourself?" But the object of her solicitude backed away, making peculiar clucking sounds deep in his throat. Paloma was saying: "This is my father, Mrs. Strange. You and he have never happened to meet before." "Why, yes we have!
Alaire called. She repeated Blaze's name several times; then something stirred. The door of a harness closet opened cautiously, and out of the blackness peered Paloma's father. He looked more owlish than ever behind his big, gold-rimmed spectacles. "What in the world are you doing in there?" she cried. Blaze emerged, blinking. He was dusty and perspiring.
Thereafter he confined himself to statements which required no corroboration. Dave had long since learned that to hold Blaze Jones to a strict accountability with fact was to rob his society of its greatest charm. A slavish accuracy in figures, an arid lack of imagination, reduces conversation to the insipidness of flat wine, and Blaze's talk was never dull.
I plainly see the head of a big man, wearing a fur cap, an' there are others behind him, ridin' in single file. What's your opinion, Mr. Mason?" "The same as yours and Red Blaze's. I, too, can see the big man with the fur cap on his head and at least a dozen following behind. Do you think it likely, Red Blaze, that they'll reach the main road before we pass the mouth of the path?"
"I ain't very good at runnin' not from Mexicans." Blaze's eyes were bright and hard at the thought. "It's more'n possible that, if they discover us, we can start a nice little war of our own." That evening Dave managed to get his Ranger captain by long-distance telephone, and for some time the two talked guardedly. When Dave rang off they had come to a thorough understanding.
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