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Updated: June 4, 2025
And, Bill, did you ever know the time when twenty thousand dollars would look more like twenty thousand full moons just showing up over the skyline?" Bill's grin reflected Steve's lively satisfaction. Now there would be the money for old Hell-Fire Packard's next payment, there would be a long respite from him, there would be ample feed for the rest of the cattle.
"You know the cause of Mrs. Packard's present uneasiness?" I asked. "Mayor Packard told me the paragraph which appeared in yesterday morning's paper. I have tried to find out its author, but I have failed so far." "That is a trifle," I said. "The real cause no, I prefer to stand," I put in, for he was again urging me by a gesture to seat myself. "The real cause " he repeated.
I'm puttin' 'em on the trot to the Big Bend ranch where they happen to belong." Steve lifted his brows, for the moment wondering. Blenham was not waiting for pitch dark to move these steers; he manifested no alarm at being discovered; now he calmly admitted that he was driving them to old man Packard's ranch where they belonged. It was possible that he was right.
The flash in Mayor Packard's eye showed sympathy, but the demands of the moment were too great for him to give to those pathetic words the full significance which I suddenly suspected them to hold. As I led her tottering figure down the step and turned toward her door I said gently: "Who was the man? Who was it that struck you?"
The table between them, they sat down. Packard put the wallet down, spread out the ten bank-notes. "Bill," he said, and there was a queer note in his voice, "Bill, you've gone through hell for me. Don't I know it? And you say I'd do as much for you? Are you sure of it, Bill?" Royce laughed and rubbed his hands together. "Dead sure, Stevie," he said. Packard's eyes dropped to the table.
Nathan D. Urner, from whose interesting paper in Packard's Monthly we have already quoted, draws the following touching picture of minstrel life: A horrible murder had been committed. All engaged in it, including the victim, were foreigners. There was not a redeeming feature, not even the rather equivocal one of passion's frenzy, connected with the deed.
Packard's lips as the two disappeared; but presently, meeting my eyes, she blushed and made haste to remark: "I certainly did Mr. Steele an arrant injustice. He was very respectful; I wonder how I ever got the idea he could be anything else." Anxious myself about this very fact, I attempted to reply, but she gave me no opportunity. "And now for those dinner invitations!" she gaily suggested.
Do you think it wise to to probe into such matters? Not that I mean to deter you. You are under Mr. Packard's orders, but a word from so experienced a man would be welcome, if only to reconcile me to an effort which must lead to the indiscriminate use of my name in quarters where it hurts a woman to imagine it used at all." This, with her eyes on his face, of this I felt sure.
"What name you come along this fella place sun he go down?" "Me b'long Boucher. Too many boy belong along Port Adams stop along my fella marster. Too much walk about." The black drew a scrap of notepaper from under his belt and passed it over. Sheldon scanned it hurriedly. "It's from Boucher," he explained, "the fellow who took Packard's place.
When a moment came at last in which I could really indulge in these intruding thoughts, I leaned back in my chair and tried to reconstruct the room according to Mrs. Packard's description of it at that time.
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