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Updated: June 10, 2025
I've seen the man next to him face like a ham...." "Shore that is Craig," interrupted his father. Jean knew the dark face of Lee Jorth by the resemblance it bore to Ellen's, and the recognition brought a twinge. He thought, too, that he could tell the other Jorths. He asked his father to describe Daggs and then Queen. It was not likely that Jean would fail to know these several men in the future.
With solemn gesture he placed his broad hand over his heart. "An', Jean, strange whispers come to me at night. It seems like your mother was callin' or tryin' to warn me. I cain't explain these queer whispers. But I know what I know." "Jorth has his followers. You must have yours," replied Jean, tensely. "Shore, son, an' I can take my choice of the best men heah," replied the rancher, with pride.
As Ellen hurried to his side she saw that the front of his shirt, low down, was a bloody blotch. But he could lift his head; his eyes were open; he was perfectly conscious. Ellen did not recognize the dusty, skinned face, yet the mold of features, the look of the eyes, seemed strangely familiar. "You're Jorth's girl," he said, in faint voice of surprise. "Yes, I'm Ellen Jorth," she replied.
And to him the last of the Isbels had come the cruelest of dooms to be caught like a crippled rat in a trap; to be compelled to lie helpless, wounded, without a gun; to listen, and perhaps to see Ellen Jorth enact the very truth of her mocking insinuation. His will, his promise, his creed, his blood must hold him to the stem decree that he should be the last man of the Jorth-Isbel war.
"Wal, Miss Jorth, I reckon you mean we're a bad lot of sheepmen?" he queried, in the cool, easy speech of a Texan. "No," flashed Ellen. "Shore I don't say sheepmen. I say y'u're a BAD LOT." "Oh, the hell you say!" Daggs spoke as he might have spoken to a man; then turning swiftly on his heel he left her. Outside he encountered Ellen's father.
I had to know why she had gone back on me. Lee Jorth hadn't changed any with all his good fortune. He'd made Ellen believe in my dishonor. But, I reckon, lies or no lies, Ellen Sutton was faithless. In my absence he had won her away from me. An' I saw that she loved him as she never had me. I reckon that killed all my generosity.
They had arranged a cunning trick and ambush, which had all but snuffed out the last of the Isbels. Colter probably had been at the bottom of this crafty plan. Since the fight at the Isbel ranch, now seemingly far back in the past, this man Colter had loomed up more and more as a stronger and more dangerous antagonist then either Jorth or Daggs.
His darkly corded face expressed extremest amaze. "Jim, I mean it," she whispered, edging an inch nearer him, her white face uplifted, her dark eyes unreadable in their eloquence and mystery. "I've no friend but y'u. I'll be yours.... I'm lost.... What does it matter? If y'u want me take me NOW before I kill myself." "Ellen Jorth, there's somethin' wrong aboot y'u," he responded.
"Shore they're bustin' with news," declared Daggs. "They been ridin' some, you bet," remarked another. "Huh!" exclaimed Jorth. "Bruce shore looks queer to me." "Red liquor," said Tad Jorth, sententiously. "You-all know the brand Greaves hands out." "Naw, Simm ain't drunk," said Jackson Jorth. "Look at his bloody shirt."
An' he's goin' to cut you FIRST FOR ELLEN JORTH! an' then for Gaston Isbel! ... Greaves said Jean ripped him with a bowie knife.... An' thet was all Greaves remembered. He died soon after tellin' this story. He must hev fought awful hard.
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