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Updated: June 16, 2025
Eastward the winding length of Bear Creek was turning pink and purple. The Cornish ranch had never seemed so beautiful to Terry as it was at this moment. It was a kingdom, and he was leaving, the disinherited heir. He turned west to the blare of the sunset. Blue Mountains tumbled away in lessening ranges beyond was Craterville, and he must go there today. That was the world to him just then.
Craterville, in fact, was a huddle of broken-down houses among a great scattering of boulders with the big mountains plunging up on every side to the dull blue of the night sky. But Craterville was also something more. It was a place where several hundred human beings lived, any one of whom might be the decisive influence in the life of Terry.
She strained her eyes through the shadows to make out his real expression; but there seemed to be a real horror in his restrained whisper. "It isn't possible, Elizabeth!" "It came in that letter. That letter I wanted to open, and which you persuaded me not to!" She mustered all her damning facts one after another. "And it was postmarked from Craterville.
Elizabeth had chosen them carefully from families which had known her father, Henry Cornish, when, in his reckless, adventurous way, he had been laying the basis of the Cornish fortune in the Rockies. Indeed, she was a little angry when she heard of the indiscriminate way in which Vance had scattered the invitations, particularly in Craterville.
At the end of a fortnight the first stranger passed, and ill-luck made it a man from Craterville. He knew Terry at a glance, and the next morning the rancher called Terry aside. The work of that season, he declared, was going to be lighter than he had expected. Much as he regretted it, he would have to let his new hand go. Terry taxed him at once to get at the truth. "You've found out my name.
Vance, you have been in Craterville lately!" He seemed to consider. "Could I have told anyone? Could I, possibly? No, Elizabeth, I'll give you my word of honor that I've never spoken a syllable about that subject to anyone!" "Ah, but what have you written?" "I've never put pen to paper. But how did it happen?" He had control of himself now. His voice was steadier.
"More or less," said Vance, covering a yawn of excitement. "But how on earth could any business it's postmarked from Craterville." "Somebody may have heard about his prospects; they're starting early to separate him from his money." "Vance, how much talking did you do in Craterville?" It was hard to meet her keen old eyes. "Too much, I'm afraid," he said frankly.
"I wish the sheriff were dead!" moaned Elizabeth. "Oh, Vance, if you only hadn't gone near Craterville! If you only hadn't distributed those wholesale invitations!" It was almost too much for Vance to be reproached after so much of the triumph was on her side such a complete victory that she herself would never dream of the peril she and Terry had escaped. But he had to control his irritation.
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