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Updated: June 14, 2025
But she did not follow Calumet's suggestion, she merely stood and watched him warily, as the man whom he had attacked struggled dizzily to his feet, staggered weakly to a chair and half fell, half slipped into it, swaying oddly back and forth, gasping for breath, a grotesque figure. The demon in Calumet slumbered this situation was to his liking.
He held it steady now, pulling with a vicious hand on the reins. Ten feet in front of the pony and squarely in the center of the trail a gigantic diamond-back rattler swayed and warned, its venomous, lidless eyes gleaming with hate. Calumet's snarl deepened, he dug a spur into the pony's left flank, and pulled sharply on the left rein.
During that time there had been little to do. Dade and Malcolm had passed several days tinkering at the stable and the bunkhouse; Bob, at Calumet's suggestion, was engaged in the humane task of erecting a kennel for the new dog which had grown large and ungainly, though still retaining the admiration of his owner; and Calumet spent much of his time roaming around the country on Blackleg.
"Know them!" said Dade. "Why, man, they was neighbors of mine in Texas!" Calumet's eyes narrowed. A pulse of some strong emotion was revealed in his face, but it was instantly subdued. "That's joyful news for you. So you know her? It's likely she'll be glad to see you." Dade was mystified by his tone. "I reckon I ain't gettin' this thing just right," he said.
Many in the room saw the expression of surprise in Denver Ed's eye as he pitched forward in a heap at Calumet's feet. There were others who saw Garvey raise the six-shooter which he had drawn from Calumet's holster. All heard the hammer click impotently on the empty chambers; saw Calumet's own weapon flash around and cover Garvey; saw the flame-spurt and watched Garvey crumple and sink.
Calumet's grin as he nodded to Taggart was almost friendly, and his voice was soft, even almost gentle. "I heard one of these man call you Taggart," he said. "I reckon you're from the Arrow?" Taggart leaned back in his chair and insolently surveyed his questioner. What he saw in Calumet's face made his own pale a little. "I'm Taggart," he said shortly "Neal Taggart. What you wantin' of me?"
"Your father liked me particularly well. A year ago he drew up a will giving me all his property and cutting you off without a cent. He gave me the will to keep for him." "Fine!" was Calumet's dryly sarcastic comment. "But I destroyed the will," went on the girl. Calumet's expression changed to surprised wonder, then to mockery. "You're locoed!" he declared. "Why didn't you take the property?"
The girl's eyes flashed with a swift, contemptuous resentment and her voice chilled. "Bob's leg was hurt," she said. She waited for an instant, watching the sneer on Calumet's face, and then went on firmly, as though she had decided not to let anything he said disturb her. "So when Grandfather proposed coming here I agreed. We took what few personal effects that were left us.
"Dead, eh?" he said. "When did he cash in?" "A week ago today." Calumet's eyelashes flickered again. Here was the explanation for that mysterious impulse which had moved him to return home. It was just a week ago that he had taken the notion and he had acted upon it immediately. He had heard of mental telepathy, and here was a working illustration of it.
Somehow the battle between horse and man, as it raged up and down before her, sometimes shifting to the far end of the level, sometimes coming so near that she could see the expression of Calumet's face plainly, seemed to be a contest between kindred spirits.
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