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Updated: May 11, 2025
Sally moaned and dropped her face against me, clasping me convulsively. I tried to reach a hand out to touch her, but I could not move. I felt her hair against my face. Diane uttered a low heart-rending cry, which both Sampson and I understood. "Listen, let me tell it quick," he said huskily. "There's been a fight. Russ killed Snecker and Wright. They resisted arrest.
Morton moistened his lips; his face was livid; his big hands shook. "Russ, you can gamble on me." "Good. Well, that's all. Come out and get me a horse." When I had mounted and was half-way to the Hope So, my plan, as far as Snecker was concerned, had been formed.
"Then the instant was plain when he realized this was no ghost of Steele, but the Ranger in the flesh. Blome's whole frame rippled as thought jerked him out of his trance. His comrades sat stone-still. Then Hilliard and Pickens dived without rising from the table. Their haste broke the spell. "I wish I could tell it as quick as it happened. But Bo Snecker, turning white as a sheet, stuck to Blome.
I watched him walk up this street on one side and then down the other, just a matter of thirty-one times. I counted them. For all I could see maybe Blome did not take a drink. But his gang, especially Bo Snecker, sure looked on the red liquor. "By eleven o'clock everybody in town knew what was coming off. There was no work or business, except in the saloons.
I never had seen a grave-robber, but I imagined one would be like Hilliard. Bo Snecker was a sleek, slim, slender, hard-looking boy, marked dangerous, because he was too young and too wild to have caution or fear. Blome, the last of the bunch, showed the effects of a bad night. "You girls remember how handsome he was, but he didn't look it now.
Presently Duane turned and frankly met his gaze. He had startled Laramie out of his habitual set taciturnity; but even as he looked the light that might have been amaze and joy faded out of his face, leaving it the same old mask. Still Duane had seen enough. Like a bloodhound he had a scent. "Talking about work, Laramie, who'd you say Snecker worked for?" "I didn't say."
I'm to kick. It's time for me to hang round with a couple of guns. You'll never use one." "The hell I won't," he retorted, with a dark glance of passion. I was surprised that my remark had angered him. "You fellows are all wrong. I know when to throw a gun. You ought to remember that Rangers have a bad name for wanting to shoot. And I'm afraid it's deserved." "Did you shoot at Snecker?" I queried.
"How are you, Laramie?" he asked. "Reckon I'm feelin' as well as could be expected," replied Laramie. His head was circled by a bandage that did not conceal the lump where he had been struck. He looked pale, but was bright enough. "That was a good crack Snecker gave you," remarked Duane. "I ain't accusin' Bo," remonstrated Laramie, with eyes that made Duane thoughtful. "Well, I accuse him.
The blood showed black and thick in his face; his utterance was incoherent, his uncontrollable outbreak of temper seemed out of all proportion to any cause he should reasonably have had for anger. Longstreth shoved him back with a curse and a warning glare. "Where's your warrant to arrest Snecker?" shouted Longstreth. "I don't need warrants to make arrests.
Come out from behind these cowboy togs?" "Not yet. We need proof, Russ. We've got to be able to prove things. Hang on at the ranch yet awhile." "This Bo Snecker was scared stiff till he recognized Wright. Isn't that proof?" "No, that's nothing. We've got to catch Sampson and Wright red-handed." "I don't like the idea of you trailing along alone," I protested. "Remember what Neal told me.
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