Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 20, 2025
Ruth saw Randerson's right arm describe a rapid half-circle; she seemed to hear a thud as his fist landed, and Pickett reeled and fell sideways to the ground, close to the wall of the bunkhouse. She heard him curse; saw him reach again for the gun at his hip.
When they reached a level space in some timber that fringed the river, Masten attempted to urge his horse through it, but was brought to a halt by Randerson's voice: "We'll get off here, Masten." Masten turned, his face red with wrath. "Look here, Randerson," he bellowed; "this ridiculous nonsense has gone far enough. I know, now, that you were spying on us.
Then she sat for another long interval, her elbows on the top of the little stand that she used as a dressing table, her chin in her hands, staring with unseeing eyes into a mirror in front of her or rather, at two faces that seemed to be reflected in the glass: Masten's and Randerson's. Next morning she got downstairs late, to find breakfast over and Randerson gone.
I'm goin' to kill you, empty my gun in you! You mis'able whelp!" He took two steps into the room and then halted, tearing at the collar of his shirt with his free hand, as though to aid his laboring lungs to get the air they demanded. Randerson's face was white and set, now. He was facing death at the hands of a man whom he had befriended many times.
Randerson met her puzzled look at him with a grave smile. "It was me, ma'am, killed him." She drew a sharp breath, her cheeks suddenly flooded with color; she shook Hagar's arm from around her waist, seized Randerson's shoulders, gripping the sleeves of his shirt hard and staring at him, searching his eyes with eager, anxious intensity. "Don't lie to me, Randerson," she pleaded.
It had been such a trivial thing, after all; the punishment seemed monstrous in comparison with it. She had seen Pickett's movement when Randerson had momentarily turned his back to him, but she had also seen Randerson's retaliatory movement.
Masten's science had served him well. He had been able, so far, to evade many of Randerson's heavy blows, but some of them had landed. They had hurt, too, and had taken some of the vigor out of their target, though Masten was still elusive as he circled, with feet that dragged a little, feinting and probing for openings through which he might drive his fists.
"Meanin' that they ain't civilized, I reckon?" "Yes. Mr. Masten had the right view. He refused to resort to the methods you used in bringing Pickett to account. He is too much a gentleman to act the savage." For an instant Randerson's eyes lighted with a deep fire. And then he smiled mirthlessly. "I reckon Mr. Masten ain't never had anybody stir him up right proper," he said mildly.
"I want you to know what for. You come sneakin' around givin' me money " "Steady, there, Abe!" Randerson's sharp, cold voice acted with the effect of a dash of water in Catherson's face. He started, his big hand trembling, for though he had come to kill, he unknowingly wanted to hear some word from Randerson's lips in proof of his innocence.
There would be time enough to decide that question if any rustlers were caught. He had seen little of the Easterner during the past two or three weeks. Masten rarely showed himself on the range any more to Randerson's queries about him the men replied that they hadn't seen him. But Randerson was thinking very little about Masten as he rode through the brilliant sunshine this afternoon.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking