Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 20, 2025
She had never known him reach that point. Always he could go faster. Always he had reserves. Far out ahead she saw a bunch of cattle feeding. They were lazily circling in a wide arc, content under the beaming sun. Near them sat a rider on a buckskin horse, Bent Smith on Golden. This Golden was one of the prides of Last's Holding.
At Last's Holding a change had taken place. The sun of spring still shone as brightly, the work of the place went on as usual. The riders went at dawn and came at dusk, their herds lowing across the rolling green spaces, the days were as busy as they had ever been, but it seemed as if Last's waited for something that would never happen, for some one who would never come.
What outfit?" There was a hard quality in her voice. If he had come in to ride for Courtrey, why he must know at once that Last's was no friend of his, now or ever. He caught the drift of her thought in part. "For no outfit, Miss Last," he said with a gentle dignity. "I am in the employ of the United States Government." A swift change came over Tharon's face. Government!
For answer the mistress of Last's once again reached out her arms and drew his head to her heart once more pressed her lips upon his own.
Along the right side below the pommel ran a darker stain, Jim Last's blood, set before his daughter like a star. She mounted the silver stallion and went away down along the summer land, a shaft of light shooting through the green of the ranges. Far over to her left she could see her cattle, beautiful bunches spread like figures in a tapestry.
"The last's a cheap compliment," Sylvia rejoined. "Aren't you asking me to undertake your wife's duty?" Herbert smiled. "Not altogether. Muriel's an excellent hostess; she will do her part, but I want you to assist her. You have exceptional and rather dangerous gifts." "Don't go too far," Sylvia warned him. "But I'd better understand the situation.
"Courtrey's beginnin'," she said. "He's heard th' word I sent th' settlers. He's goin' t' use th' tactics now with Last's that he's used with every poor devil he wanted to run out of th' Valley, th' tactics he darsent use while Jim Last lived. Well go send Conford to me, Billy." The girl sat down in the doorway and gazed sombrely out over the summer land.
For Last's girl was the rose of the Valley, the one absolutely unattainable woman, and they worshipped her accordingly. Not that she was aloof. Far from it. In her deep heart the whole bunch of boys had a place; singly and collectively. They were her private property, and she would have been inordinately jealous of any one of them had he slipped allegiance.
There were no Finger Marks, however, the blue roans, red roans and buckskins with the four black stripes on the outside of the knee, as if one had slapped them with a tarred hand, which hailed from Last's. There were horses from all up and down the Valley.
How long he stood there he did not know. His heart was dead, like the weathered stone country about him. He knew that he heard Tharon's voice after a while, that golden voice which had been the bells of Last's, in rapid question and answer and Kenset's voice, too, weak and slow, but filled with joy unspeakable.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking