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Updated: September 20, 2025
"I been after him these three days. Logan tipped him wrong, and he started the south trail for Eldara. I got on his trail three times and couldn't catch him till we hit Eldara." "I thought your roan was the most durable horse on the range, Steve. You've often told me so." "He is." "But you couldn't catch Bard?" "He was on a faster horse than mine for a while." "Well? Isn't he now?
They had difficulty in riding the trail side by side, for though the roan was somewhat rested by the delay at Eldara it was impossible to keep him up with Bard's prancing piebald, which sidestepped at every shadow. Yet the tenderfoot never allowed his mount to pass entirely ahead of the roan, but kept checking him back hard, turning toward Nash with an apology each time he surged ahead.
This, however, was something which he would not believe, no matter what testimony his eyes gave him. He rode up to a shuttered window and kicked it with his heel. Only the echoes of that racket replied to him from the interior of the place. He swore, somewhat touched with awe, and kicked again. A faint voice called: "Who's there?" "Steve Nash. What the devil's happened to Eldara?"
Coming down the main street for Eldara boasted no fewer than three thoroughfares the first houses which Nash passed showed no lights. As far as he could see, the blinds were all drawn; not even the glimmer of a candle showed, and the voices which he heard were muffled and low.
Into her mind came a phrase she had heard in her childhood. On the outskirts of Eldara there was a little shack owned by a Mexican José, he was called, and nothing else, "Greaser" José. One night an alarm of fire was given in Eldara, and the whole populace turned out to enjoy the sight; it was a festival occasion, in a way. It was the house of Greaser José.
Nash now swung more to the right, cutting across the hills, for he presumed that by this time the tenderfoot must have gotten his bearings and would head straight for Eldara. It was a stiff two day journey, now, the whole first day's riding having been a worse than useless detour; so the bulldog jaw set harder and harder, and the keen eyes squinted as if to look into the dim future.
"Kilrain," called Drew, "you're Calamity's best friend. Ride for Eldara and bring back Dr. Young. Quick! We're going to pull Ben through." "Jest a waste of time," said Nash coolly. "He's got one foot in hell already." "You've said too much, Nash. Kilrain, are you going?" "I'll stop for the doctor at Eldara, but then I'll keep on riding." "What do you mean?" "Nothin'."
Certainly not." "Don't lie." "Drew, rein up. They's one thing no man can say to me and get away with it." "I tell you, man, I'm holding myself in harder than I've ever done before. Answer me!" He did not even rise, but Glendin, his hand twitching close to the butt of his gun, moved step by step away from those keen eyes. "Answer me!" "Nash; he's been to Eldara." "I might have known.
"Anyway, in he went and got the centre table and called for ten dollars' worth of bacon and eggs which there hasn't been an egg in Eldara this week. Sally, she told him, not being afraid even of Butch. He got pretty sore at that and said that it was a frame-up and everyone was ag'in' him.
This feller Bard has gone along the range raisin' a different brand of hell everywhere he went. He had a run-in with two gunmen, Ferguson and Conklin. He had Eldara within an ace of a riot the first night he hit the town. Mr. Drew, that chap looks the part of a killer; he acts the part of a killer; and by God, he is a killer."
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