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Updated: June 7, 2025
"I shall never tell you no matter what you do to me. What do you take me for? How dare you think me capable of such a low-down, mucker trick?" Unconsciously she had lapsed into Athol's vernacular. It was the last touch to Miss Woodhull's wrath. She actually flew up out of her chair and catching Beverly by her shoulders shook her soundly. Then it all happened in a flash.
The woman had lifted Molly, straightened her clothing. "All blood!" said one. "That saddle horn! What made her ride that critter?" The Spanish horse stood facing them now, ears forward, his eyes showing through his forelock not so much in anger as in curiosity. The men hustled the two antagonists apart. "Listen, Sam," went on the tall Missourian, still with his grip on Woodhull's wrist.
Consequently the occupants of Suite 10 were glad to rest their weary bodies upon couch or easy chairs when dinner was over, and Sally was entertaining them with an account of her interview with Miss Baylis after luncheon. "She makes me tired. If it had been you, Bev, she would have sent you down to Miss Woodhull's office in jig time. But I've a good one for Uncle Tom," and Sally laughed.
"If Katy can go with the Woodhulls and their set, I certainly shall not prevent it," she thought, as she continued her arrangement of the parlor, wishing so much that it was more like what she remembered Mrs. Woodhull's to have been, fifteen years ago. Of course that lady had kept up with the times, and if her old house was finer than anything Mrs.
"Well, Woodhull's one of you Missourians," remarked Price. "Yes, but he ain't bred true. Major Banion is. Hit was me that made him fight knuckle an' skull an' not with weapons. He didn't want to, but I had a reason. I'm content an' soothe jest the way she lies. Ef Will never sees the gal agin she ain't wuth the seem'. "Ye'll find Col. William Banion at the head o' his own train.
Ye're flyin' in the face o' Proverdence, which planted this critter right here fer us ter leave where no one'd ever be the wiser, an' where he couldn't never do no more devilment. Ye idjit, leave me kill him, ef ye're too chicken-hearted yoreself! Or leave us throw him back in again!" Banion would not speak at first, though his eyes never left Woodhull's streaked, ghastly face.
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