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Updated: June 25, 2025
In the excitement, the suspense, I must have made shadows into real substance. Anyway, there was the half-circle of bearded, swarthy men around Blome's table.
Steele had not been able to recognize any of these night visitors, and he did not think the time was ripe for a bold holding up of one of them. Jim Hoden had forcibly declared and stated that some deviltry was afoot, something vastly different from Blome's open intention of meeting the Ranger. Hoden was right.
I've heard my father and my cousin, too, speak of Blome's record. He must be a terrible ruffian. If his intent is evil, why will he fail in it?" "Because, Miss Sampson, when it comes to the last word, Steele will be on the lookout and Blome won't be quick enough on the draw to kill him. That's all." "Quick enough on the draw? I understand, but I want to know more."
"They might be rustlers. But the boy, he's hardly careful enough for this gang. Then there's Jack Blome. He comes to town often. He lives up in the hills. He always has three or four strangers with him. Blome's the fancy gun fighter. He shot a gambler here last fall. Then he was in a fight in Sanderson lately. Got two cowboys then. "Blome's killed a dozen Pecos men.
You thought you meant it, didn't you? "'Yes I did mean it. "'All right. Go ahead! "The barroom became perfectly still, except for the slow breaths I heard. There wasn't any movement anywhere. That queer gray came to Blome's face again. He might again have been stone. I thought, an' I'll gamble every one else watchin' thought, Blome would draw an' get killed in the act. But he never moved.
"'Zimmer will be clever enough to drift his outfit along one or two at a time? I asked Morton, and he reassured me. Then we went into the saloon. "There were perhaps sixty or seventy men in the place, more than half of whom were in open accord with Blome's gang.
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