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Updated: June 10, 2025
A great, unsurmountable wall seemed to obstruct Ellen's thought. It seemed gray in color. It moved toward her. It was inside her brain. "I tell you, Ellen Jorth," declared the old man, "thet Jean Isbel loves you-loves you turribly an' he believes you're good." "Oh no he doesn't!" faltered Ellen. "Wal, he jest does." "Oh, Uncle John, he cain't believe that!" she cried. "Of course he can. He does.
Jorth would be with the main crowd, directing hostilities. Jean could shoot this rustler guard and his shot would be taken by the gang as the regular one from their comrade. Then swiftly Jean leveled his rifle, covered the dark form, grew cold and set, and pressed the trigger. After the report he rose and wheeled away. He did not look nor listen for the result of his shot.
Next Ellen espied a black horse they had evidently brought with them. Her father was holding a rope halter. At once the black horse struck Ellen as being a beauty and a thoroughbred. "Ellen, heah's a horse for you," said Jorth, with something of pride. "I made a trade. Reckon I wanted him myself, but he's too gentle for me an' maybe a little small for my weight."
Your dad got me heah to lead the Jorths, an' that's my say to you.... Simm, you're shore a low-down lyin' rascal. Keep away from Ellen after this or I'll bore you myself.... Jorth, it won't be a bad idee for you to forget you're a Texan till you cool off. Let Bruce stop some Isbel lead.
Jorth's got to be reckoned with." "Who is he?" "Wal, I don't know enough to talk aboot. Your dad never said so, but I think he an' Jorth knew each other in Texas years ago. I never saw Jorth but once. That was in Greaves's barroom. Your dad an' Jorth met that day for the first time in this country. Wal, I've not known men for nothin'. They just stood stiff an' looked at each other.
Oh, Jean!" exclaimed Ann, in surprise and embarrassment. "Dad said she was a damned hussy." "Jean, dad hates the Jorths." "Sister, I'm askin' you what you think of Ellen Jorth. Would you be friends with her if you could?" "Yes." "Then you don't believe she's bad." "No. Ellen Jorth is lonely, unhappy. She has no mother. She lives alone among rough men.
"Did Sprague tell you aboot this half-Indian Isbel aboot his reputation?" "Yes." "Did he look to you like a real woodsman?" "Indeed he did. He wore buckskin. He stepped quick and soft. He acted at home in the woods. He had eyes black as night and sharp as lightnin'. They shore saw about all there was to see." Jorth chewed at his mustache and lost himself in brooding thought.
It has been my glory.... It might have been my salvation.... But now I'll go to hell with y'u if y'u'll spare him." "Damn my soul!" rasped out the rustler, as if something of respect was wrung from that sordid deep of him. "Y'u y'u woman! ... Jorth will turn over in his grave. He'd rise out of his grave if this Isbel got y'u." "Hurry! Hurry!" implored Ellen. "Springer may come back.
"Sure, Jean," replied his sister, with her dark eyes fixed wonderingly and kindly on his troubled face. "I've heard a great deal, but in this Tonto Basin I don't believe all I hear. What I know I'll tell you. I first met Ellen Jorth two years ago. We didn't know each other's names then. She was the prettiest girl I ever saw. I liked her. She liked me. She seemed unhappy.
"Abe, you're talkin' sense," broke in Blaisdell. "An' that's why we're up heah for quick action." "I heerd y'u got Daggs," whispered Meeker, as he peered all around. "Wal, y'u heerd correct," drawled Blaisdell. Meeker muttered strong words into his beard. "Say, was Daggs in thet Jorth outfit?" "He WAS. But he walked right into Jean's forty-four.... An' I reckon his carcass would show some more."
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