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Updated: June 7, 2025
"One minute an' forty-nine seconds!" announced the Mayor and the crowd cheered wildly. Upon the lumber pile Alice Marcum ceased her handclapping as her eyes met those of a cowboy who had ridden up unobserved and sat his horse at almost the exact spot that had, a few moments before, been occupied by Purdy. She was conscious of a start of surprise.
"You made him believe an' made ever'body, you could, believe that I was was bad" Her breath got short, but the terrible arraignment went on. "You started this war. My brother wouldn't 'a' shot Jim Marcum if it hadn't been fer you. You killed Jim your own husband an' you killed me. An' now you want me to fergive you you!"
Alice Marcum, who had followed every word, turned chalk-white in the lamplight as she stared wide-eyed at the Texan, with fingers pressed tight against her lips, while Jennie placed herself protectingly between them and launched into a perfect tirade. "Hold on, now." Both girls saw that the man was smiling and Jennie relapsed into a warlike silence.
Certain men were looking for each other, and it was a question of "draw-in' quick 'n' shootin' quick" when the two met by accident, or of getting the advantage "from the bresh." In time Steve Marcum had come face to face with old Steve Brayton in Hazlan, and the two Steves, as they were known, drew promptly.
"Come on!" said the girl, sternly, and turned, without looking back, until she reached the door of the hut, where she beckoned and stood waiting, while the woman started slowly and helplessly from the steps, still wringing her hands. Inside, behind her, the wounded Marcum, who had been listening, raised himself on one elbow and looked after her through the window.
Rufe had tried to do what nobody had done, or could do, while he was alive. Anyway, he was reckless, and he cared little if war did come again. Still, the old man prepared for a fight, and Steve Marcum on the other shore made ready for Rufe's return. It was like the breaking of peace in feudal days. The close kin of each leader were already about him, and now the close friends of each took sides.
"Why was you so anxious she was to have Number 11, if what you've told me is on the level?" she asked, as they approached the hotel. "I don't know, yet, exactly. But I've got a hunch they'll be somethin' doin' a little later." "Uh-huh, an' I'll be right there when it's doin', too. An' you can bet your last blue one on that!" Alice Marcum swung unassisted to the ground as the two approached.
Alice Marcum stood upon the edge of the lumber-pile with the wind whipping her skirts about her silk stockings as the Texan, saddle over his arm, glanced up and waved, a gauntleted hand. The girl returned the greeting with a cold-eyed stare and once more found herself growing furiously angry.
Despite her embarrassing situation Alice Marcum could scarce restrain a smile at the officer's sudden obsequious deference. Stetson in hand, he bowed awkwardly. "Excuse me, mom, but, as I was goin' on to say in reference of any remarks I might of passed previous, I found out subsequent I didn't mean what I was sayin', which I misunderstood myself complete.
Mocking shouts followed after them, pistol-shots, even the scraping of a fiddle and shuffling on the ledge. But they kept on, cursing across the river and back to Daddy Marcum, who was standing in the porch, peering for them through the dawn, with a story to tell about Isom. "The critter was teched in the head," the old man said, and this was what the Braytons, too, believed.
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