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Updated: June 28, 2025
He had fought it out a hundred times in his mind, but he could not escape the conviction that she had made a tool of his love. The girl went to the heart of the matter. "Polly loves you, and she is breaking her heart because of your wretched pride. If you don't go straight to her and beg her pardon for your want of faith in her, you're not half the man I think you are, Jack Goodheart."
"You two go out on the porch and smoke your pipes," she said. "I have to finish my work in the kitchen, then I have to go down to the cellar and take care of the milk. Ill not be long." Pierre, an obedient parent, rose and moved toward the porch. Before he left the room Goodheart took the precaution to lock the bedroom door and pocket the key.
The name Goodheart was Bun-Couer in Norman-French, and from this came Bunker, which, if we knew nothing of its history, would not seem to mean Goodheart at all. So the name Tait came from Tête, or Head; and we may guess that the first ancestor of the numerous people with this name had something remarkable about their heads. The name Goodfellow is really just the same as Bonfellow.
Late the next afternoon he struck the dust of the drag in the ground swells of a more broken country. The drag-driver directed Goodheart to the left point. He found there two men, One of them Dad Wrayburn he knew. The other was a man of sandy complexion, hard-faced, and fishy of eye. "Whad you want?" the second demanded. "I want to see Webb." "Can't see him. He ain't here." "Where is he?"
From his deep, regular breathing Jack judged him to be asleep. He relocked the door and joined Pauline. The face of the girl was very white in the moonlight. Her big eyes flashed at him a question. Had he discovered that his prisoner was free? They walked slowly toward the corral. From it Goodheart could see the front of the house, but not the cellar entrance at the side.
"They've got notions. Mine are different." "Do I get a gun if it comes to a showdown, Billie?" "You do. I'll appoint you a deputy." Jim laughed. "That sounds reasonable." Goodheart joined them. The three men left the back door of the court-house and cut across the square. The station was three blocks distant.
Looks to me like some one else has been doin' some double-crossin' besides me." "Naturally you'd think that," cut in Goodheart dryly. "The facts probably are that Go-Get-'Em Jim, knowin' his friends pretty well, had you watched, found out you called on the sheriff, an' guessed the rest. He's not a fool, you know." "That's right. Git ready an alibi," Sanders snarled.
With a little whimper Polly moved blindly to the house through her tears. Jim Takes a Prisoner After Goodheart left the room where his prisoner was confined, Clanton waited a few moments till the sound of his footsteps had died away. He rose, moved noiselessly across the floor, and raised the trapdoor slowly.
The girl despised his wooing, but she was forced to respect the man. As a lover she had no use for Goodheart; as a friend she was always calling upon him. "I knew you'd go, Jack," she told him. "Yes, I'd lie down and make of myself a door-mat for you to trample on," he retorted with a touch of self-contempt. "Would you like me to do it now?" Lee looked at him in surprise.
A saddled horse blinked in the sun beside the depot, the bridle rein trailing on the ground. Its owner sat on a dry-goods box and whittled. Jim glanced at the bronco casually. Jack Goodheart also observed the cowpony. He whispered to the sheriff. Prince turned to his prisoner. "Jim, you can take that horse an' hit the dust, if you like." "Meanin' that you can't protect me?"
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