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Updated: June 14, 2025


Off at the edge of the clearing stood Rachel Carter and Isaac Stain, watching the scene at the door. "One look will be enough," the woman had said tersely. "Twenty years will not have changed Simon Braley much. I will know him at sight." "You got to be sure, Mrs. Gwyn," muttered the hunter. "Ef you got the slightest doubt, say so." "I will, Isaac."

All that had been so long obscured in his mind and heart slowly cleared to understanding Lucy Braley, Richmond's wife; Phebe; Hannah; and again Lucy, Lucy Vibard had this common hunger for life, for brightness; they were as helpless in its grasp as he had been to hold Hannah. Phebe's return, Martin Eckles were only incidents in a great inner need.

"She's coming by to-morrow's stage," he went on, untouched by the sensation his information had wrought in the kitchen; "and it's certain I can't meet her. The bank's sending me into West Virginia about some securities." Richmond Braley, it developed further, was bound to a day's work on the public roads. They turned to Calvin.

"And ef you say it's him, fer sure an' no mistake, I'll foller him to the end of the world but what I git him." "If it is Simon Braley he will make a break for cover. He is not like that whimpering coward over yonder. And the sheriff will make no attempt to bring him down. There is no complaint against him. No one knows that he is Simon Braley."

Naturally, Martin Hawk knew nothing of all this. He knew, through Simon Braley, that Indian troubles were bound to come, but how was he to know that red-skins in warpaint had been seen on the Grand Prairie, or that he was not the only subject of conversation?

The Braley table, spread after the Greenstream custom in the kitchen, was surrounded by Richmond and Calvin Hosmer had stayed late at the bank Hannah and Susan, the eldest of the children, prematurely aged and wasted by a perpetual cough, while Lucy Braley moved carelessly between the stove and the table.

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