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Updated: June 28, 2025
At the time, they thought he had gone to borrow more money, and perhaps try his luck at some other place, but nothing more was seen of him, and they soon forgot the occurrence. When all was over and the crowd was slowly dispersing, Houston saw several members of the gambling fraternity approaching him, headed by the two designated by Bull-dog as Slicky Sam and Brocky Joe.
The fact that Kid Rickard pulled the game the way he did this afternoon, shooting down Roberts when there was no need of bloodshed, ought to be enough to show us that they are not going to draw the line anywhere this side of old Mexico." "What are you planning?" asked Engle. "I've sent for Brocky and all the men he can bring.
Out in the street, in the full light of Struve's porch-lamp, Cutter stopped, glancing about him to make sure that he was not overheard. "You know all about the shooting of Brocky Lane up in the mountains," he said hurriedly. "Rod told me you did. Well, I just gathered in Moraga!" "Moraga?" muttered Engle. "He has seen Galloway, then?
Brocky Lane with a score of men had swept down upon the stolen herds, scattered them, fired fifty shots, emptied some three or four saddles, and sent the escaping rustlers flying toward the Mexican line.
I want to go with you; I want a rifle, I tell you! Didn't I see Tommy Rudge go down with a bullet in his belly? Didn't I see Denny when the Kid shot him?" Norton laid a hand on Elmer's arm, speaking quietly. "Listen, Elmer," he said. "We will do what we can where Brocky is. But that isn't all of the devilment to-night.
"Yes. My half-brother's wife and a good soul she is." He drew the letter from its envelope and unfolded it. He began to read the epistle with a smile wreathing his lips, for Aunt Almira's communication was unintentionally funny: "'Dear Brocky: "'Jase won't never get around to writing you, far as I see, so I had better do so before you get the suspicion that we are all dead.
Norton turned and was gone in the darkness; to Virginia's eyes it seemed that he was swallowed up by the cliff's themselves, as though they had opened and accepted him and closed after him. She supposed that he had gone to seek what scanty dry fuel one might find here. But in a moment he was back carrying a lighted lantern. "Look here, Rod. . . ." expostulated Brocky.
"No," he sighed. "If Brocky had been more settled he'd ha' been better off I snum he would! A piece o' land right here back o' Polktown or a venture in a store, if so be he must trade would ha' been safer for him than a slather o' mines down there among them Mexicaners." "Don't talk so don't talk so, Jason!" sniffed Aunt Almira. "Wal it's a fac'," her husband said vigorously.
Even John Engle, Julius Struve, Tom Cutter, and Brocky Lane came to Norton at one time or another, telling him what they had heard, urging him to give some heed to popular clamor, and to begin legal action. "Put the skids under him, Roddy," pleaded Brocky Lane. "We can't slide him far the first trip, maybe. But a year or so in jail will break his grip here." But Norton shook his head.
Then, sitting up, wide awake, she knew that Norton had come to the doorway of her separate chamber and had called. She threw off her blanket and got up hastily. It was still dark. She imagined that she had merely dozed and that Norton was summoning her because Brocky Lane was worse. A dim glow shone through the cave entrance, that flickering, uncertain light eloquent of a camp-fire.
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