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Updated: May 4, 2025
Marianne dropped her face in her hands and burst into tears. It was only a momentary surrender. When she turned back to join the downheaded men on the home-trail for it was worse than useless to follow Alcatraz on such jaded horses Marianne had rallied to continue the fight. Ten years to capture Alcatraz and the mares he led?
Just as he turned, the mind of Vance Cornish raced back to another picture a man with long black hair blowing about his face and a gun in either hand, sweeping through a dusty street with shots barking behind him. It came suddenly as a revelation, and left him downheaded with the thought. "What is it, Vance?" asked his sister, reaching out to touch his arm. "Nothing."
"I don't know much about it," confessed Bull humbly, "but I know you're apt to cut him up badly with those big spurs." "And what the devil difference does that make to you?" cried Dunbar with heat. "And what do you mean by all these fool suggestions? I'm riding the horse!" Bull drew back, downheaded. Hal Dunbar cast one contemptuous glance toward him and then stepped to the side of Diablo.
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