Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 13, 2025
I've got something to say to her, and I'm going to say it." "To-morrow," amended the officer. "I said to-night." "But your say doesn't go here against hers. I reckon you'll wait." "Not so's you could notice it." The cowpuncher took a step forward toward the stairway, but Flatray was there before him. "Get out of the way, you. I don't stand for any butting-in," the cowboy blustered.
"And who are you?" the ranger asked, though he was quite sure of the answer. "Men call me Black MacQueen," drawled the other. "MacQueen! But you said " "That I was Flatray. Yep I lied." O'Connor appeared to grope with this in amazement. "One has to stretch the truth sometimes in my profession," went on the outlaw smoothly.
MacQueen was standing a dozen feet away, his hands behind his back and his legs wide apart. As Flatray swung around the outlaw read a warning in the blazing eyes. Just as Jack tore loose from his guards MacQueen reached for his revolver. The gun flashed. A red hot blaze scorched through Jack's arm. Next instant MacQueen lay flat on his back, the sheriff's fingers tight around his throat.
"What is it?" a frightened voice demanded. "Friends, Mr. West. Just a minute." It took them scarce longer than that to free him and to get him into the open. A Mexican woman came screaming out of an adjoining cabin. The young men caught each an arm of the capitalist and hurried him forward. "Hell'll be popping in a minute," Flatray explained.
Jack Flatray could look at death level-eyed, and with an even pulse, because for him it was all in the day's work; but the prospect of it shook West's high-strung nerves. Nevertheless, he took command of the explanations, because it had been his custom for years to lead. MacQueen, his sardonic smile in play, sat back and let West do most of the talking.
But how could he be, since he was completely cloaked in darkness? So at last he came to the nearest cabin, crept to the window, and looked in. A man lay on a bed. His hands and feet were securely tied and a second rope wound round so as to bind him to the bunk. Flatray tapped softly on a pane. Instantly the head of the bound man slewed round. "Friend?"
The indictment against your friend is that he interfered when it wasn't his business." "But it was his business. Don't you know he's sheriff? He had to do it." Melissy turned to the outlaw impetuously. "So. And I have to play my hand out, too. It wipes out Mr. Flatray. Sorry, but business is business."
"Make a sound, and you're a dead man." The other choked and gurgled. He was not yet able to cry out, even had he any intention of so doing. But defiant eyes glared into those of the man who had unhorsed and captured him. "Where are your pals bound for?" Flatray demanded. He got no answer in words, but sullen eyes flung out an obstinate refusal to give away his associates.
He was bowed down with his unworthiness, with shame that he had dragged her into this horrible tangle. He was convinced that Jack Flatray would get at the truth, and already he was resolved to come forward and claim the whole affair as his work. "I've been apologizing to Mr. Morse for insulting him, dad," the girl said immediately. Her father passed a bony hand slowly across his unshaven chin.
Flatray guessed that a reconnaissance of the gulch would be made, and prepared himself for it by deflecting his course from the bed of the arroyo at a point where the walls fell back to form a little valley. A little grove of aspens covered densely the shoulder of a hillock some fifty yards back, and here he took his stand. He dismounted, and made his prisoner do the same.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking