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Updated: May 13, 2025
He took his place. A friend couldn't have done more for another." The color beat into the face of the Arkansas girl as she looked at him. "No. He sacrificed his career for him. He did a thing he must have hated to do." "He's sure some man," Flatray pronounced. A young man, slight, quick of step, and erect as a willow sapling, walked into the room.
The young men bantered her and each other, and she flashed back retorts which gave them alternately deep delight at the discomfiture of some other. Toward the close of luncheon, she turned her tilted chin from Flatray, as punishment for some audacity of his, and beamed upon the railroad magnate. "It's very good of you to notice me at last," he said, with his dry smile.
"Scrape Arizona with a fine-tooth comb and you couldn't get a jury to convict when it's up against the facts in this case." At this she brightened. "Thank you, Mr. Flatray." And naïvely she added with a little laugh: "Are you ready to put the handcuffs on me yet?" He looked with a smile at her outstretched hands. "They wouldn't stay on." "Don't you carry them in sizes to fit all criminals?"
There's no two ways about that." She broke down and began to sob quietly in a heartbroken fashion, while he tried to comfort her. It was not so easy as he thought. So long as MacQueen lived Flatray would walk in danger if she did as he wanted her to do. Neither of them knew that Bucky O'Connor's bullet had already annulled the marriage, that happiness was already on the wing to them.
Jack looked at West. The railroad man was tired and drawn. He was not used to galloping over the hills all night. "All right. We'll be here when you come back," Flatray said, and flung himself on the ground. West followed his example. It must have been half an hour later that Flatray heard a twig snap under an approaching foot.
That the negro was stanch enough, she knew, but she was on the anxious seat lest his sharp-witted inquisitor get what he wanted in spite of him. After he had finished with Budd the ranger drifted around to the kitchen in time to intercept Hop Ling casually as he came out after finishing his evening's work. The girl was satisfied Flatray could not have any suspicion of the truth.
Lee curbed a disposition toward bad language, as he viewed it with disgust. "This here is bulletin number one, girl. It's the cheekiest, most impudent thing I ever saw. MacQueen serves notice to all the people of this county to keep out of this fight. Also, he mentions me and Jack Flatray by name warning us that, if we sit in the game, hell will be popping for us." "What will you do?" "Do?
"I know my boss," returned Lee with a laugh. "If you're quite through with me, Miss Lee, I'll not intrude longer," Flatray said. "But I'm not," spoke Melissy quickly. She did not intend to let him get away to settle his quarrel with Boone. "I'm rather busy," he suggested. "Your business will have to wait," she came back decisively. Lee laughed and clapped Jack on the shoulder.
They rode in silence, with the loose seat and straight back of the vaquero. Except the ranger, all were dressed for riding Flatray in corduroys and half-knee laced boots; his men in overalls, chaps, flannel shirts, and the broad-brimmed sombrero of the Southwest. All four were young men; but there was an odd difference in the expressions of their faces.
"Well, we'll see what we'll see," he wheezed complacently. "And anyways I got to have some horseshoe plug, Melissy." The girl laughed nervously as she reached for what he wanted. "You're a safe prophet, Mr. Baker," she said. "He'd be a safe one if he'd prophesy that Jack Flatray would have Mr. Hold-up in the calaboose inside of three days," put in a half-grown lad in leathers.
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