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Updated: June 22, 2025
"I'm a darned sight more worried about that other one, th' Arizona beauty which Courtrey's got in." "Forget th' gun man, Burt," said Billy, "this feller's a heap more interestin' to me, for I've got a hunch he's a poet.
Young Paula, half asleep in the deep recesses of the house, had witnessed that furious encounter by the western door on the soft spring day when Jim Last had come home to die at dusk. She knew that the look in Courtrey's eyes had been covetousness and she had told José. José, loyal and sensible, had told the boys. To Tharon, who knew more than all of them put together, this was funny.
Her limbs were stiff when she rose from the big chair, her hands were icy. "No use, Tharon," said Conford quietly, "we can't find a damned thing. If Courtrey's bunch killed Kenset they made a clean get-away with all evidence. That much has th' new law done in th' Valley killed th' insolence of th' gun man. Let's go home."
White as Ellen, Cleve Whitmore rode that triumphant journey, his eyes still blazing, his lips tight. The town went wild. Public feeling came out on every hand. Daring took the weak, hope took the oppressed, and they called Courtrey's reign right there. For three uproarious hours the bar-tenders could not wipe off their bars.
Then the colour rose in his face and he drew back the hand, raised it, scrutinized it smilingly, and put it quietly on his hip. Still smiling he raised his eyes again to Courtrey's face. "Courtrey," he said, this time without the Mr., "I've come to Lost Valley to stay. I had hoped to be friends with all my neighbours. It would have made my work easier. However, with or without, I stay."
Tharon Last and all her followers held themselves in readiness for anything in the days that followed the taking of the herds from Courtrey's range. They locked their doors at night, stood double guard at corral and stable. Mothers scattered throughout Lost Valley gathered in their little ones and watched the slopes and levels when their men were out.
On her head was the inevitable sunbonnet of slats and calico. As she went up the steps of the store with Cleve, Lola of the Golden Cloud, blazing like a comet in her red-and-black came face to face with her purposely. What was in Lola's head none would ever know, but she wanted to see Courtrey's wife.
For every cattle-brute run off by Courtrey's band, we'll take back one in open day, all of us ridin'. We'll have to shoot, but I'm ready. Are you?" Every man answered on the instant. "Then," said the girl tensely, "get down an' sign." There was a rattle of stirrups and bits, a creak of leather as thirty men swung off their horses. Tharon stepped back in the lighted room.
Tharon shifted the meal-sack higher on her left arm. Courtrey's eyes went down to her right hand and stayed there. The girl's upper lip lifted from her teeth in a sneer that was the acme of insult. The fire was beginning to play in her blue eyes. "Law?" she said. "My God! Law!" "Yes, law! you young hussy, an' don't you fergit that I represent it."
Then he went back to his cabin and his interrupted work and set himself to wait in patience for the return of Drake. But in Lost Valley a leaven was rising. It had begun insidiously to work with the appearance of Kenset in Tharon's band at Courtrey's doorstep.
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