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"Your father knows you're a thief," declared Wade, with remorseless, deliberate intent. "I told him how I watched you trailed you an' learned the plot you hatched against Wils Moore.... Buster Jack busted himself at last, stealin' his own father's cattle.... I've seen some ragin' men in my day, but Old Bill had them beaten.
"Wils, hers is the kind that grows stronger with time. I know." Moore strained in his intensity of emotion, and he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. "Oh God! this's hard on me!" he cried. "I'm a man. I love that girl more than life.
There were tears in her eyes. "It'll only cause more pain make matters worse." "Reckon I don't agree with you. Wils just wants an' needs to see you. Why, he appreciated your position. I've heard him cry like a woman over it an' our helplessness. What ails him is lovesickness, the awful feelin' which comes to a man who believes he has lost his sweetheart's love." "Poor boy!
Wilson was badly used up before dad and Ben got there. Ben drove off with him." "But, Miss Collie, how'd it come off? I seen Wils the other day. Was up to his homestead. An' the boy jest manages to rustle round on a crutch. He couldn't fight." "That was just it. Jack saw his opportunity, and he forced Wilson to fight accused him of stealing. Wils tried to avoid trouble. Then Jack jumped him.
Reckon thar he got cut up. We was all a good ways off. The steer went bawlin' an' plungin' after Pronto. Wils yelled fer a rifle, but nobody hed one. Nor a six-shooter, either.... I'm goin' back to packin' a gun. Wal, Wils did some ridin' to git over thar in time to save Pronto." "Lem, that is not all," said Columbine, earnestly, as the cowboy concluded.
"To-day, when Wade came with your letter, he asked me, sort of queer, 'Say, Wils, do you know how many letters I've fetched you from Collie? I said, 'Lord, no, I don't, but they're a lot. Then he said there were just forty-seven letters. Forty-seven! I couldn't believe it, and told him he was crazy. I never had such good fortune. Well, he made me count them, and, dog-gone it, he was right.
"Why?" queried Wade. "Oh, because when I wrote I didn't tell them I was hurt. I feel like a liar." "It's just as well, Wils, because you swear you'll not go home." "Me? I should smile not.... Bent I I hoped Collie might answer the note you took her from me." "Not yet. Wils, give the lass time." "Time? Heavens! it's three weeks and more."
I'm mighty glad he means to take him. But my! won't Jack be sore." "I reckon. It's time he broke out." "And now, dear Ben what have you got for me? I know it's from Wilson," she coaxed. "Lass, would you give much for a little note from Wils?" asked Wade, teasingly. "Would I? When I've been hoping and praying for just that!"
"What cattle did you say?" asked the rustler, as if he had not heard aright. "The cattle Buster Jack stole from his father an' sold to you." "Wal, now! Bent Wade at his old tricks! I might have knowed it, once I seen you.... Naw, I'd no idee Belllounds blamed thet stealin' on to any one." "He did." "Ahuh! Wal, who's this Wils Moore?" "He's a cowboy, as fine a youngster as ever straddled a horse.
He smiled wanly at her, and at Wade, and then his gaze lifted to Belllounds. "I guess he licked me," he said, in weak voice. "He kept kicking my sore foot till I fainted. But he licked me all right." "Wils, mebbe he did lick you," replied the old rancher, brokenly, "but I reckon he's damn little to be proud of lickin' a crippled man thet way." "Boss, Jack'd been drinking," said Moore, weakly.
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