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Updated: June 4, 2025
I'd like you to tell him that the rustlers were more to blame than Wils Moore. Just say that an' nothin' else about Wils. Don't mention about your suspectin' there was another man around when the fight come off.... Tell the cowboys that I'll be down in a few days. An' if you happen to get a chance for a word alone with Miss Collie, just say I'm not bad hurt an' that all will be well." "Ahuh!"
"I wonder which is Wils," murmured Columbine, as she watched and listened, vaguely conscious of a little difference, a strange check in her remembrance of this particular cowboy. She felt the change, yet did not understand. One after one she recognized the riders on the slopes below, but Wilson Moore was not among them.
Mos' ginerully hit's a free fout betwixt the young fellers o' the bride's an' bridegroom's famblies, from 'sputin' which fambly's made the best match. When Brother Wils married Becky Barnstable we Hartburn boys said that Wils mout-ve looked higher.
Columbine helped the old man to his favorite dishes, stealing furtive glances at his lined and shadowed face. She sensed a subtle change in him since the afternoon, but could not see any sign of it in his look or demeanor. His appetite was as hearty as ever. "So you met Wils. Is he still makin' up to you?" asked Belllounds, presently. "No, he isn't.
The cowboy had drawled out his admiring speech, half amused and half satiric. "I'm mad!" declared Columbine. "That's why." "What're you mad at?" queried Wilson. She did not reply, but kept on gazing steadily at him. Moore still looked pale and drawn, but he had improved since last she saw him. "Aren't you going to speak to a fellow?" he went on. "How are you, Wils?" she asked.
And say! what he can do with his hands! He's been kind to me. Took an interest in me, and between you and me he sort of cheered me up." "Cheered you up! Wils, were you unhappy?" she asked, directly. "Well, rather. What'd you expect of a cowboy who'd crippled himself and lost his girl?" Columbine felt the smart of tingling blood in her face, and she looked from Wilson to the wagon.
"Wal, he come damn near bein'," replied Lem, grimly. "An' if it hedn't been fer ridin' you don't see every day, why thet ornery Texas steer'd hev got him." "Who was riding? Lem, was it you? Oh, I'll never be able to do enough for you!" "Wuss luck, it weren't me," said Lem. "No? Who, then?" "Wal, it was Wils, an' he made me swear to tell you nuthin' leastways about him." "Wils!
When he had worked thus for about two hours and had stacked a pile of wood almost as large as the cabin he considered it sufficient for the day. So he went indoors. Moore was so busily and earnestly writing that he did not hear Wade come in. His face wore an eloquent glow. "Say, Wils, are you writin' a book?" he inquired. "Hello! Sure I am.
"Wils!" she cried. "Did you hear anything?" "No," he replied, wearily raising his head. "I thought I heard a shot," said Columbine. "It it sort of made me jump. I'm nervous." Scarcely had she finished speaking when two clear, deep detonations rang out. Gun-shots! "There!... Oh, Wils! Did you hear?" "Hear!" whispered Moore. He grew singularly white. "Yes yes!... Collie "
The cowboy cursed violently. "Here I won't tell you any more if you're goin' to cuss that way an' jerk around," protested Wade. "I I'll shut up," appealed Moore. "Well, that puddin'-head Jack is more'n you called him, if you care to hear my opinion.... Now, Wils, the fact is that none of them know what ails Collie. But I know. She'd been under a high strain leadin' up to October first.
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