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Updated: June 16, 2025
In a flash his mind traveled back to that day at Norway House when Rousseau, the half Frenchman, had come to him from a sick-bed to tell him that Bucky had ruined his young wife. Rousseau, who should have been in bed with his fever, died two days later. Billy could still hear the taunt in Bucky's voice when he had cornered him with Rousseau's accusation, and the fight had followed.
He was only the husk of the man he had been, but it did Bucky's heart good to see that the germ of life was still in him. Back in Arizona, on the Rocking Chair Ranch, with the free winds of the plains beating on his face, he would pick up again the old strands of his broken life, would again learn to love the lowing of cattle and the early morning call of the hooter to his mate. "I mean it.
The bully at the table passed an uncertain hand over his face to clear his blurred vision, poised the cruel blade in his hand, and sent it flashing forward with incredible swiftness. The steel buried itself two inches deep in the soft pine beside Bucky's head. So close had it shaved him that a drop of blood gathered and dropped from his ear to the floor.
I'm after Scottie Deane myself!" In the next breath he could have cut out his tongue for having uttered the words. A gleam of triumph shot into Bucky's eyes. "I thought we was right," he said. "We sort of lost the trail in the storm. Glad we found you to set us right. How much of a start of us has he and that squaw that's traveling with him got ?" Billy's mittened hands clenched fiercely.
Meanwhile, Master Frank, busy over some alterations in Bucky's gypsy suit, took pleasure in deriding with that sweet voice the harassed correspondent. "It might be a love letter from the pains you take with it. Would you like me to come and help you with it?" the sewer railed merrily.
Having reached the poker room upstairs, that same private room which had seen many a big game in its day between the big cattle kings and mining men of the Southwest, Bucky's host ordered refreshments and then unfolded his business. "You don't know me, lieutenant, do you?" "I haven't that pleasure, seh." "I am Major Mackenzie's brother."
And on top of his last statement Bucky's eyes began to open with a new light. "Good heavens! It can't be possible. You're not Webb Mackenzie's little girl, are you?" She did not answer him in words, but from her neck she slipped a chain and handed it to him. On the chain hung a locket. The ranger struck a match and examined the trinket. "It's the very missing locket. See! Here's the other one.
We never had but one son, and we are going to treat him as much like one as we can. Eh, mother?" "If he will consent, Webb." She went up to the ranger and kissed his tanned cheek. "You must pardon an old woman whom you've made very happy." Again Bucky's laughing blue eyes met the brown ones of his sweetheart.
Will you be my major-domo?" Bucky's heart leaped. He had been thinking of how he must report almost immediately to HurryUp Millikan, of the rangers. Now, he could resign from that body and stay near his love. Certainly things were coming his way. "I'd like to try it, seh," he answered. "I may not make good, but I sure would like to have a chance at it." "Make good! Of course you'll make good.
In that horrible hole an innocent man had been confined for fifteen years, unless he had died during that time. That, in substance, was the story told by the showman, and Bucky's incisive questions were unable to shake any portion of it. As to the missing locket, the man explained that it had been broken off by accident and lost.
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