Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: July 2, 2025
It was Cartwell. Despite his breadth of shoulder, the young Indian looked slender, though it was evident that only panther strength could produce such panther grace. He crossed the lawn and stood at the foot of the steps; one hand crushed his soft hat against his hip, and the sun turned his close-cropped black hair to blue bronze. For an instant none of the three spoke.
The whites had gotten them. They all had been scalped and were dead except the baby, three years old. She she my father killed her." A gasp of horror went round the table. "I think such stories are inexcusable here!" exclaimed Katherine indignantly. "So do I, Mrs. Jack," replied Cartwell. "I won't do it again." Porter's face stained a deep mahogany and he bowed stiffly to Katherine.
Perhaps now you'd go on and get the buckboard. Tell them it's for Rhoda, Rhoda Tuttle. I just went out for a walk and then " Her voice trailed into nothingness and she could only steady her swaying body with both hands against the rock. "Huh!" grunted young Cartwell. "I go on to the house and leave you here in the boiling sun!" "Would you mind hurrying?" asked Rhoda.
We suspicion that Cartwell, that educated Injun, has stole her. We're trying to find his trail. Can you give us a hunch?" The sleepy look left the prospector's eyes. He crossed the rocks to put a hand on Billy's pommel. "Gee! Ain't that ungodly!" he exclaimed. "I ain't seen a soul. But night before last I heard a screaming in my sleep. It woke me up but when I got out here I couldn't hear a thing.
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Newman!" "I feel as if I were visiting a group of anarchists," said Rhoda plaintively, "and had innocently passed round a bomb on which to make conversation!" Jack Newman laughed, the tension relaxed, and in a moment the dinner was proceeding merrily, though Porter and Cartwell carefully avoided speaking to each other. Most of the conversation centered around Rhoda.
He wore the khaki suit, the high-laced riding boots of the ranch days; and he wore them with the grace, the debonair ease that had so charmed Rhoda in young Cartwell. That little sense of his difference that his Indian nakedness had kept in Rhoda's subconsciousness disappeared.
"It means," he answered grimly, "that you folks must be crazy to let Miss Tuttle take a walk in clothes like this! She's got a scorpion sting in her foot." The man in flannels turned pale. He hurried along beside Cartwell, then broke into a run. "I'll telephone to Gold Rock for the doctor and tell Mrs. Newman." He started on ahead. "Never mind the doctor!" called Cartwell.
"Well, we'll have something to eat first. I don't like to think on an empty stomach. Come over to my blanket and sit down, Jim." Ignoring Rhoda, who was watching him closely, Kut-le seated himself on his blanket beside Jim and offered him a cigarette, which was refused. "I don't want no favors from you, Cartwell." His voice was surly.
"No," said Rhoda, suddenly recalling that, after all, Cartwell was an Indian, "I don't think I will go. Katherine will have all sorts of objections." The Indian smiled sardonically. "I already have Mrs. Jack's permission. Billy Porter will be in, in a moment. If you would rather have a white man than an Indian, as escort, I'm quite willing to retreat." Rhoda flushed delicately.
"Go get your famous top-buggy and I'll be ready in a minute." In a short time Rhoda and Cartwell, followed by many injunctions from Katherine, started off toward the irrigating ditch. At a slow pace they drove through the peach orchard into the desert. As they reached the open trail, thrush and to-hee fluttered from the cholla. Chipmunk and cottontail scurried before them.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking