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Updated: May 15, 2025
Davis" and then rushed off and brought back the entire establishment brokers, bankers and mine owners and they all sat around and told me funny stories and planned more things for me to do and eat than I could dispose of in a month. I am now en route to Creede.
We won't let anything happen to your cattle, Miss Lucy, and I thank you very much, but I'm afraid I can't do it." He stopped, and bowed his head, hammering moodily away at his hole in the rocky ground. "Excuse me a minute, Miss Ware," said Creede, rising to his feet as the silence became oppressive. "Come over here, Rufe, I want to talk with you."
My sheep has been killed and my men has been intimidated on this here public range, and I want to tell you right now, Mr. Creede, that this funny business has got to stop!" "Well, don't choke!" said the cowman, fingering his gun coldly. "Go ahead and stop it, why don't you?"
Creede, if you were a woman and owned the Dos S outfit, what would you do about the sheep?" For a minute Creede sat silent, surveying the little lady from beneath his shaggy hair.
But while he sat dreaming, thinking with what words to begin, his partner lounged in, and Hardy put aside his pen and waited, while the big man hung around and fidgeted. "Well, I'll be in town to-morrer," he said, drearily. "Aha," assented Hardy. "What ye got there?" inquired Creede, after a long silence.
Creede; you are interested in this, too. In fact," she added mysteriously, "I need your assistance." A slow smile crept into the rough cowboy's eyes as he sat watching her. "What can I do for you?" he inquired guardedly. "Well," answered Lucy, "the situation is like this and I'm not trying to rope you in on anything, as you say, so you needn't look suspicious.
At that moment three men stepped silently forward from behind the clump of young trees which had concealed their approach. Two were hospital attendants and carried a stretcher. The third was Major Creede Halcrow. "Prisoner, what is your name?" "As I am to lose it at daylight to-morrow morning it is hardly worth while concealing it. Parker Adderson." "Your rank?"
There was a chastened gayety in the voices, a silvery ripple in the laughter, which told him what Creede with all his cunning could never guess; they were voices from another world, a world where Hardy had had trouble and sorrow enough, and which he had left forever.
"'S that so!" commented Hardy, and then he went on with his cooking. For a minute Creede stood watching him, his eyes keen to detect the slightest quaver, but the little man seemed suddenly to have forgotten him; he moved about absently, mechanically, dropping nothing, burning nothing, yet far away, as in a dream.
He dragged up a cot as he spoke and was hurriedly arranging a bed when Lucy interposed. "Oh, but don't leave him out here!" she protested, "put him back in his own room, where I can take care of him." "All right," said Creede, and picking him up from his bare cot beneath the ramada he carried Hardy into the little room where he had lived before Lucy Ware came.
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