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Updated: June 5, 2025
"She had frost on her face a inch thick when she discovered them cats. I thought she'd hop right out of the window." "She says I must throw 'em away," ventured Jinnie. "Cluck! Cluck!" struck Lafe's tongue against the roof of his mouth, and he smiled. Jinnie loved that cluck. It put her in mind of the Mottville mother hens scratching for their chickens.
"Eat your mush," snapped the woman, "an', Lafe, don't 'Peggy dear' me. I hate it; see?" Virginia refused to believe the startling words. She would have adored being called "dear." In Lafe's voice, great love rang out; in the woman's, she scarcely knew what. She glanced from one to the other as the cobbler lifted his head.
Knowles listened without comment, his leathery face stolid, but his eyes glinting. When Blake had finished, he remarked shortly: "Must be the same man. Let's see those shells." Blake handed over the two empty cartridge shells. "Thirty-eight," confirmed Knowles. "Same as were fired at Lafe before. Kid and Chuckie showed me how a thirty-eight fitted the hole in Lafe's silver flask.
The fire, jumping out, didn't hurt the cobbler one wee bit, but it burned the wicked men " Jinnie paused, gathered a deep breath, and brought to mind Lafe's droning voice when he had used the same words, "Burned 'em root and branch," declared she. Bobbie's face shone with happiness. "Is that all?" he begged. "Isn't it enough?" asked Jinnie, with tender chiding.
"He said he'd he'd crack my twigs for me if if I'd kiss him, and he pinched me when I wouldn't." Anger and deep resentment displayed themselves on Lafe's pale face. "Jinnie, lass," he breathed. "I c'n trust you, child. Can't I trust you? You wouldn't " Jinnie drew away from Lafe's embrace. "I guess I'd rather be killed'n have Maudlin kiss me," she cried passionately.
She opened her lips, and gave one long scream; then another and another before Maudlin pulled her to him and closed her mouth with a large hand, and Jinnie grew faint with fright and terror. They were out of sight now of Paradise Road, still Jinnie struggled and struggled, gripping with both hands at Bates' fingers jerking at her curls. Suddenly Lafe's solemn words surged through her mind.
I didn't want to say anything; and I believe Farwell couldn't. It lasted so long that it began to look as if the little blue haze at the end of Lafe's cigar was all that was going to happen. But by and by he turned his head ever so little, and looked at Knowles. "Got your story for the Herald set up yet?" he asked. Farwell swallowed some more and just shook his head.
The girl took one impetuous step forward and noted Lafe's white, agonized face. Then she caught a glimpse of the stricken men on the floor. Her tongue refused its office, and dropping the blind child's fingers, she came quickly forward. "Call help! Hurry! Get a doctor!" gasped Lafe, and Jinnie, without saying a word, rushed out.
"Bobbie," she whispered, cuddling him. "Lafe's coming home soon. Be a good boy and lie still and rest. Jinnie'll come back in a few minutes." She crawled off the bed, and went to the shop door. By main force she had to drag her unwilling feet over the threshold. She stood for two tense minutes scanning the room with pathetic keenness. Then she walked forward and stood beside the bench.
Just about then things happened. We had dropped onto one of Lafe's little tricks mighty smartly. There was a precinct certain to be strong for Knowles, where the balloting was to take place in the office-room of a hook-and-ladder company. In the corner was a small closet with one shelf, high up toward the ceiling.
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