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Updated: June 8, 2025


Sympathy had made him soft. "It was two years ago-two years last March," he went on. "I was in a big cattle deal with Longstreth. We got the stock an' my share, eighteen hundred head, was rustled off. I owed Longstreth. He pressed me. It come to a lawsuit an' I was ruined." It hurt Duane to look at Laramie. He was white, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

Longstreth, you're ignorant of the power of Texas Rangers." "You'll come none of your damned ranger stunts out here. I'll block you." That passionate reply of Longstreth's was the signal Duane had been waiting for. He had helped on the crisis. He wanted to force Longstreth's hand and show the town his stand. Duane backed clear of everybody. "Men! I call on you all!" cried Duane, piercingly.

Lawson was red, bloated, thick-lipped, all fiery and sweaty from drink, though sober on the moment, and he had the expression of a desperate man in his last stand. It was his last stand, though he was ignorant of that. "What's your news? You needn't be afraid of my feelings," said Lawson. "Ray confessed to an interest in this ranger," replied Longstreth. Duane thought Lawson would choke.

Mayor or not, he was unable at once to quell the excitement. Gradually, however, it subsided, and from the last few utterances before quiet was restored Duane gathered that he had intruded upon some kind of a meeting in the hall. "What'd you break in here for," demanded Longstreth. "Isn't this the court? Aren't you the Mayor of Fairdale?" interrogated Duane.

Duane decided that Sanderson, Bradford, and Ord were but notorious outposts to this Fairdale, which was a secret center of rustlers and outlaws. And what struck Duane strangest of all was the fact that Longstreth was mayor here and held court daily. Duane knew intuitively, before a chance remark gave him proof, that this court was a sham, a farce. And he wondered if it were not a blind.

We don't want you out here. Fairdale doesn't need you." "That's a lie, Longstreth," retorted Duane. "I've letters from Fairdale citizens all begging for ranger service." Longstreth turned white. The veins corded at his temples. He appeared about to burst into rage. He was at a loss for quick reply. Floyd Lawson rushed in and up to the table.

So Duane waited there in the darkness with patience born of many hours of hiding. Presently a lamp was lit; and Duane heard the swish of skirts. "Something's happened surely, Ruth," he heard Miss Longstreth say, anxiously. "Papa just met me in the hall and didn't speak. He seemed pale, worried." "Cousin Floyd looked like a thunder-cloud," said Ruth. "For once he didn't try to kiss me.

Next morning Duane found that the little town was called Sanderson. It was larger than he had at first supposed. He walked up the main street and back again. Just as he arrived some horsemen rode up to the inn and dismounted. And at this juncture the Longstreth party came out. Duane heard Colonel Longstreth utter an exclamation. Then he saw him shake hands with a tall man.

It was a heavy door without bolt or bar, and when Duane had shut it he felt safe only for the moment. Then he gazed around the room. There was one window with blind closely drawn. He listened and seemed to hear footsteps retreating, dying away. Then Duane turned to Miss Longstreth. She had slipped off the bed, half to her knees, and was holding out trembling hands.

But the rattle inside Longstreth's room was mingling with little dull thuds of falling dirt. The adobe wall, merely dried mud, was crumbling. Duane distinctly felt a tremor pass through it. Then the blood gushed back to his heart. "What in the hell!" exclaimed Longstreth. "I smell dust," said Lawson, sharply.

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