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Updated: May 1, 2025
"I taxed Henry with miserliness, and he then told me that the money was not his, but left to him to be used for an illegitimate son of Clark's, born before his marriage, the child of a small rancher's daughter named Hattie Burgess. The Burgess girl had gone to Omaha for its birth, and the story was not known.
"I can add nothing to what I've said, and I'm busy." Curtis rode away, but when he was out of the rancher's sight he broke into a dry smile. He was an astute young man and knew his business, which was merely to investigate and follow the instruction of his chiefs at Regina. Unembroidered facts were what they required in the first instance, but later he might be permitted to theorize.
Unconscious profanity flowed from the rancher's lips in a stream; but meanwhile his brain worked swiftly, and, freeing himself, he crawled back hand over hand until a wave in the ground covered the river from view; then springing to his feet he ran toward the others, approaching now as fast as spurs would bring them, waving, shouting a warning as he went.
They saw him now and a few scattering shots were sent in his direction, but the lad heeded them no more than had they been rain drops. His mind was too fully absorbed with the task he had set for himself. At last he and the rancher's pony were converging on a single point. Mr. Simms's pony reached it first with Tad only a few feet away.
She once had stopped here, too, several years previous when accompanying her father, who had been called to dress the rancher's injured hand. The girl could not have been over twelve or thirteen then, a shabby, awkward girl wearing a braid who came out to gaze shyly at her sitting in the car.
John was propped against the bar mopping up his fourth "Collins." He usually had a thirst that took considerable quenching in the mornings now. His over-night potations were deep and strong. Morning "nibbling" had consequently become a disease with him. "Old man" Smith, with a keen eye to business, systematically mixed the rancher's morning drinks good and strong.
In spite of his usual assurance, Arizona never felt easy with this man. Now the rancher's manner decidedly thawed. "Yes, yes," he said gently. "Take the poor boy up-stairs. You'd better go for the doctor. You can give me the details afterward." He turned back into his room, and the other passed up the stairs.
Lisle had occasionally seen a bush rancher's daughter, armed with gun or fishing-rod, look very much at home in similar surroundings; but this English lady, of culture and station, reared in civilized luxury, appeared equally in her right place.
"I thought only Americans took their fates in their hands in that way. For a man of his class to face a rancher's life means determination. It means the spirit " with a low little laugh at the leap of her imagination "of the men who were Mount Dunstans in early days and went forth to fight for what they meant to have. He went to fight. He ought to have won. He will win some day."
"You be the terrible desperado that I'm bringin' home after a bloody fight, where you wounded Martin and me, and 'most escaped. You'll have ev'ry rancher's wife givin' you flowers and weepin' over your youth and kissin' you good-bye. In the mornin', when we're ready to go and I'm about to fix up the vouchers for our host, you break away and ride like the devil.
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