Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 31, 2025
Well, give the boss my best." He paused, frowning gloomily into the fire. "Say," he said, his voice breaking a little, "d'ye ever hear anything from Miss Bonnair?" For a moment Hardy was silent. Then, reading what was in his partner's heart, he answered gently: "Not a word, Jeff." The big cowboy sighed and grinned cynically. "That was a mighty bad case I had," he observed philosophically.
I've got to git out and do some ridin', and at the same time I want to do the right thing by Miss Bonnair, so if you could jest kindly come along with us to-morrow I'll be much obliged." The elemental passions man-love, jealousy, the lust for possession are ugly things at best, even when locked in the bosom of a poet.
He was awakened from his dreams by the voice of Creede, low, vibrant, full of brotherly love. "Rufe," he was saying, "Miss Bonnair has told me a lot about you a lot I didn't know. She likes you, boy, and she's a good woman. I never knowed but one like her, and that was Sallie Winship. You mustn't let anything that's happened stand between you.
But when I steered his paw around in front of him he jest grabbed onto that big black pad on the bottom of his foot like it was m'lasses candy, and went off to sleep again as peaceful as a kitten." The man from Coloraydo ended his tale abruptly, with an air of suspense, and Kitty Bonnair took the cue. "What did I do then?" demanded Lightfoot, with a reminiscent smile.
Kitty Bonnair was the first to open her eyes and peep forth upon the fairy world which promised so much of mystery and delight.
In their simplest terms they make for treachery and stealth; but when complicated with the higher call of friendship and duty they gall a man like the chains of Prometheus and send the dragon-clawed eagles of Jove to tear at his vitals. Never until this naive confession had Hardy suspected the sanity of his friend nor the constancy of Kitty Bonnair.
He laid one hand appealingly upon his partner's shoulder, but the little man squirmed out from under it impatiently. "Who is it?" he asked doggedly. "Sallie Winship?" "Aw, say," protested Creede, "don't throw it into a feller like that Sal went back on me years ago. You know who I mean Kitty Bonnair." "Kitty Bonnair!" Hardy had known it, but he had tried to keep her name unspoken.
He hurried through the missive, as if seeking something which was not there, then his hungry eyes left the unprofitable page and wandered about the empty room, only to come back to those last words: "Always your Friend, Kitty Bonnair." "Always your friend," he repeated bitterly "always your friend. Ah, God!" He sighed wearily and shook his head.
For years the thought of Kitty Bonnair had haunted him, rising up in the long silence of the desert; in the rush and hurry of the round-up the vision of her supple form, the laughter of her eyes, the succession of her moods, had danced before his eyes in changing pictures, summoned up from the cherished past; but now his mind was filled with other things.
He could see as in a vision the shrouded form of Kitty Bonnair slipping from her door at midnight to fling a final word after him, not knowing how far he would flee; he could see the lonely mail collector, half obscured in the San Francisco fog, as he scooped the letter from the box with many others and boarded the car for the ferry.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking