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Updated: June 5, 2025
"He was headin' south-southeast by no'th or thereabouts when I last seen him," said Sucatash. "And he was fannin' a hole plumb through the atmosphere." They left the unsatisfactory witness and rushed to the corner around which De Launay had vanished. Here they found a man or two who had seen the galloping horse and its rider.
Solange still sat desolately on the log. Finally Sucatash came to her and assisted her to rise. He led her to her horse and held the stirrup for her as she swung to the saddle. He was about to mount himself when De Launay caught his eye. Instead, he stepped to the soldier's side. "Take this," said De Launay, holding out the envelope. "Give it to her to-morrow.
In one hand he held the coil of wire snubbed about the roots of the scrub oak while the other was clutching the nose of his horse. Finally out of the smother of snow Sucatash came driving, head bent and hat brim pulled down to avoid the snow. The road was easy enough and he thought of nothing but getting along with all the speed possible.
They were clothes about like those worn by Sucatash and Dave Mackay. De Launay could have purchased such clothes at any one of a dozen shops, but they would have been new and conspicuous. The fellow wore a wide-brimmed hat, the wear of which had resulted in certain picturesque sags that De Launay considered extremely artistic.
He had had a sentimental desire to see if the girl of six had fulfilled the promise of her youth after nineteen years, had even dreamed, in his soberer moments, of coming back to her to play the rôle of a prince, but nevertheless, he found himself philosophically accepting the possibility hinted at by Sucatash and even feeling a vague sort of relief. "Who's Wilding?" he asked.
She had collected herself and, although still shaky, was cool and efficient, her nurse's experience rendering the doctor invaluable aid. Together they soon stanched the bleeding and directed De Launay's removal to a near-by tent where he was laid upon ample bedding. Then the doctor turned to Solange and Sucatash, who hovered around her like a satellite. "I've done what I can," he said.
The questions were fired at him in rapid succession. Sucatash was exasperatingly leisurely in answering them. "They was a hoss here, yes," he drawled. "Was it yours?" "Not that I know of," answered Sucatash. "Gent came along and forked it. I allowed it was hisn and so I didn't snub him down none. Was he the gent you was lookin' for?" "Which way did he go?"
It had been snowing some all night, and it was now slithering down in great flakes which made the air a gray mystery and the ground a vague and shadowy puzzle. Sucatash did not care to linger.
There was a deep note of sympathy in the casual comment. And the cow-puncher looked at De Launay in a manner which the soldier readily interpreted. "No mine, no means of support, no friends within five thousand miles; nothing but a husband she doesn't want! Is that what you're thinking?" "Not meaning any offense, it was something like that," said Sucatash, candidly.
The lids were drooping over the deep eyes, veiling them, hiding all but a hint of the mystery and beauty behind them. "Am I not worth a man's life?" she murmured. "You're worth a dozen murders and any number of other crimes," said Sucatash gruffly. He turned his head away. "But you got me wrong. If he was what you think, I'd smoke him up in a minute and you'd not owe me a thing.
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