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Updated: June 27, 2025
"The Apaches will give their share to me for fire water. That's why this must go through. If Bear Claw and his braves slip up, we'll have to finish it. As for Kid Wolf " Garvey's expression changed to one of malignant fury, and he made the significant gesture of cutting a throat. "I hear that this Kid Wolf makes it his business to right wrongs," Shank sneered. "Thinks he's a law of himself.
"And these othah men are goin' to throw in with yo', too!" The men in the saloon stood aghast, open-mouthed. But they didn't hesitate long. When the stranger spoke again, his words came like the crack of a whip: "Get yo' hosses!" Garvey's heavy-jawed face went purple with fury. That this young unknown dared to try such high-handed methods so boldly in Lost Springs which he ruled maddened him!
The alternative was six miles along a lonely road in the dark, or a night under Garvey's roof. The former seemed a direct invitation to catastrophe, if catastrophe there was planned to be. The latter well, the choice was certainly small. One thing, however, he realised, was plain he must show neither fear nor hesitancy.
They all came to a bad end. And so, if yo' want my answah take it!" Garvey's gang found themselves staring into the muzzles of two .45s! The draw had been magical, so swiftly had the Texan's hands snapped down at his hips. Al Arnold, alone of the six riders, saw the movement in time even to think about drawing his own weapon.
Strong reddened a little, but waited to be answered with very fair composure. "Didn't you really know, Strong? The Judge scored one on you that time, then. Why, he's been Garvey's man in Sierra Township one or two elections now. Used to be a Millerite preacher, before your day, but he broke down at that. Good hand in county politics, but he's always completely out of business between times.
They were blue and mild, but little glinting lights seemed to sparkle behind them. He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, it was in a soft, deliberate Southern drawl: "Isn't it rathah wahm foh such violent exercise, gentlemen?" Robbins, crimsoned at the mouth, raised on one elbow to look at the stranger. Garvey's lips curled in a sneer.
None of the bridge-playing set drop in of an afternoon to ask Mrs. Garvey if she won't fill in on Tuesday next, she ain't invited to join the Ladies' Improvement Society, or even the Garden Club; and when Garvey's application for membership gets to the Country Club committee he's notified that his name has been put on the waitin' list. I expect it's still there.
In reality his thoughts were centred upon his companion, whose manners were giving evidence of a gradual and curious change. There was a decided difference in his demeanour, a difference that the secretary felt at first, rather than saw. Garvey's quiet self-possession was giving place to a degree of suppressed excitement that seemed so far inexplicable.
And thus, at length, it was decided, and the thing done. The village of Laurel was their compromise between Mrs. Garvey's preference for one of the large valley towns and Pike's hankering for primeval solitudes.
His rather long, fair hair was in contrast with the golden tan of his face. He wore a shirt of fringed buckskin, open at the neck. His trousers were tucked into silver-studded riding boots, weighted with spurs that jingled in tune to his swinging stride. At each trim hip was the butt of a .45 revolver. The newcomer's eyes held the attention of the men in Garvey's Place.
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