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Updated: May 18, 2025
The color washed away beneath the tan of the father's face. "Where's she at?" "Here at the hotel. Mrs. Gillespie an' Doc Tuckerman are lookin' after her." "I'd like to go to her right away." "Sure. Dud, you know where the room is. Take Mr. Tolliver there." "Pete." Houck's voice was hoarse, but no longer defiant.
Even after they had plunged into the thicket of saplings they could hear bullets zipping through the foliage to right and left. The glazed eyes in Houck's flushed face did not recognize the punchers. Defiance glowered in his stare. "Where'd you get the notion, you red devils, that Jake Houck is a quitter? Torment me, will you? Burn me up with thirst, eh? Go to it an' see."
Would he throw down on him and kill? Or would he attack with his bare hands? Fury and hatred boiled into the big man's face. His day had come. He would have his revenge no matter what it cost. Bob could guess what hours of seething rage had filled Houck's world.
Coffee, hot biscuits, more venison, a second dish of gravy: no trained waiter could have anticipated their wants any better. If she was a bit sulky, she had reason for it. Houck's gaze followed her like a searchlight. It noted the dark good looks of her tousled head, the slimness of the figure which moved so awkwardly, a certain flash of spirit in the undisciplined young face.
Afterward Blister had a word with Bob and Dud while he was arranging sentry duty with them. "Wish that b-bird hadn't come. He's here because he wants to drive the Utes outa the country before they get him. The way I heard it he had no business to kill that b-buck. Throwed down on him an' killed him onexpected. I didn't c-come to pull Jake Houck's chestnuts outa the fire for him. Not none.
The waitress shook her head. "No, I don't want him to think I'm afraid of him. I'm not, either. I'll wait on him." June took Houck's order and presently served it. His opaque eyes watched her in the way she remembered of old. They were still bold and possessive, still curtained windows through which she glimpsed volcanic passion.
Down in the bottom of his heart he knew that he could not leave this enemy of his to the fate that would befall him. The only thing to do was to go for help at once. He took off his coat and put it under Houck's head. He moistened the hot bandanna for the burning forehead and poured the rest of the water down the throat of the sick man. The rifle he left with Houck.
Dillon felt a sinking at the pit of his stomach. "You think this is Houck's outfit?" "That'd be my guess." "An' that they've taken Powder River with them?" "I'm doing better than guessin' about that. One of the party saw a bronc with an empty saddle an' tried to rope it. First time he missed, but he made good when he tried again." "If I had yore imagination, Dud " "Straight goods.
"You're twistin' my words, Jake," the father went on, an anxious desire to propitiate frowning out of the wrinkled face. "I ain't sayin' a word against you. I'm explainin' howcome I to feel like I do. Since I bumped into that accident in the Park " Houck's ill-natured laugh cut the sentence. It was a jangled dissonance without mirth. "What accident?" he jeered. "Why when I got into the trouble "
She frowned at him, in a kind of puzzled wonderment. "You're right queer. If I was a man " The sentence died out. She was not a man. The limitations of sex encompassed her. In Jake Houck's arms she had been no more than an infant.
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