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Updated: May 17, 2025
"And responsible for getting her back home just as soon as I say the word," Luck added, the taut muscles standing out in his clenched jaw. "I expect your say-so won't be final in this matter, Luck. But I'll take the responsibility. Miss Cullison will get home at the proper time." "I'm not going home till you do," the girl broke in. "Oh, Dad, we've been so worried. You can't think."
Cullison was away on the instant. Curly's hand came out of his pocket. In it was a paper. Quickly he shook the contents of the paper into the steaming cup of coffee and stirred the liquid with a spoon. Sam brought back the cigar and drank his coffee. Without any unnecessary delay they returned to his room. Before the party had climbed the stairs the boy was getting drowsy.
Presently he discovered that her father was away hunting strays on Sunk Creek, that the nearest neighbor was seven miles distant, and that Stone's ranch was ten miles farther up Dead Cow. "Ever meet a lad called Sam Cullison?" the guest asked carelessly. Curly was hardly prepared to see the color whip into her cheeks or to meet the quick stabbing look she fastened on him.
It's just like as if she had absorbed sunshine and was warming you up with her smile." "I see she has made a friend of you." "You bet she has." Miss Cullison shot a swift slant glance at him. "If you'll come back this afternoon you can meet her. I'm going to have all those dimples and all that sunshine here in the box with me." "Maybe that will draw Sam to you." "I'm hoping it will.
"Since you've got to have an answer yes, I do." "By heaven, I'd as lief think I did it myself." "You're a good friend," Bolt conceded. "By the way, I've got to pay for some supplies this morning. Can you cash a check for a hundred?" "I reckon so." Mackenzie drew from his pocket the roll Cullison had given him two hours before. He peeled five twenties from it.
"Then I dare say you can let me see the money you got from him." "He paid me by check." "Banked it yet?" "That's my business, Nick." "And mine, Billie. I can find out from the bank if you have. Besides, I happen to know that Luck's bank account is overdrawn." "Some one has been at you to prejudice you, Bolt." "Nobody but Luck Cullison himself and his actions."
Their eyes did not meet, but each felt the thrill of joy waves surging through their veins. The preliminaries in the rough riding contest took place that afternoon. Of the four who won the right to compete in the finals, two were Curly Flandrau and Dick Maloney. They went together to the Cullison box to get the applause due them. Kate Cullison had two guests with her.
But there were times when Curly wondered whether it would make any difference to him whether Cullison got well or not. Something immediate was in the air. Public opinion was sifting down to a decision. There were wise nods, and whisperings, and men riding up and going off again in a hurry.
Most of them had made good in the land, and their cattle fed upon a thousand hills. The least among them physically was Luck Cullison, yet he was their recognized leader. There was some innate quality in this man with the gray, steel-chilled eyes that marked him as first in whatever company he chose to frequent. A good friend and a good foe, men thought seriously before they opposed him.
He was now dealing, his eyes on the cards, so that he missed the embarrassment in the faces of those about him. "On Thursday, the first day the law allows," Cullison answered quietly. Flandrau chuckled. "I reckon Cass Fendrick will be some sore." "I expect." Cullison's gaze met coolly the black, wrathful eyes of the man who had just come in.
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