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Updated: June 27, 2025
In the midst of this the door opened quietly and closed again. Melissy finished, fingered her music, and became somehow aware that she was not alone. She turned unhurriedly on the seat and met the smiling eyes of her husband. From his high-heeled boots to his black, glossy hair, Black MacQueen was dusty with travel. Beside him was a gunny sack, tied in the middle and filled at both ends.
Heth appeared in the bedroom, just after eight, Carlisle greeted her with: "Has papa gone out, mamma?" Mamma said no, papa was in the study, though Mr. MacQueen was with him just at the moment. Something about installing some new machines at the Works, she believed....
"Take it away," she said, with a shudder. "You see, you can't do it! You can't even go to the window there and shout out that Black MacQueen is with you in the house. You don't hate me at all, my dear." "Because I won't kill you with my own hand? You reason logically." "Then why don't you betray my presence? Why don't you call your friends in to take me?"
"Stand back, Bucky O'Connor or, by God, I'll drill you!" The vaquero smiled. "Right guess, Black MacQueen. I arrest you in the name of the law." Black's revolver spat flame twice before the ranger's gun got into action, but the swaying of the train caused him to stagger as he rose to his feet.
"Since you know who I'm not, perhaps you can tell me, too, who I am." In that instant before she spoke, while her steady eyes rested on him, she put together many things which had puzzled her. All of them pointed to one conclusion. Even now her courage did not fail her. She put it into words quietly: "You are that villain Black MacQueen." He stared at her in surprise. "By God, girl you're right.
Two hands went swiftly up from beside the saddle. The moonlight gleamed on something bright in the right hand. A flash rent the night. A jagged, red-hot pain tore through the shoulder of Hal Yarnell. He fired wildly, the shock having spoiled his aim. The attacker laughed exultantly, mockingly, as he swung his horse about. "A present from Black MacQueen," he jeered.
The girls noticed that she did not take his arm; that she even drew back, as if to avoid touching him as they crossed the threshold. Not until they reached the gate of her father's house did MacQueen speak. "I'm not all coyote, girl. I'll give you the three days I promised you. After that you'll join me wherever I say." "Yes," she answered without spirit. "You'll stand pat to our agreement.
"Please take a chair, Miss Lee. We have some business to talk over," the outlaw suggested. Melissy looked straight at him, her lips shut tight. "What have you done with Jack Flatray?" she presently demanded. "Left him to find his way back to his friends." "You didn't hurt him ... any more?" "No." "And you left him alone, wounded as he was." "We fixed up his wound," lied MacQueen.
That queer and undoubtedly upsetting bit of "crowd psychology" they had seen that, he pointed out, had come merely from the unusual heat, the control of the steam-pipes happening to be out of whack to-day. Such a thing didn't happen once in six months; so that surly fellow MacQueen had said. Of course, producing wealth was a hard business at best, let none deny it.
He allows that blackguard MacQueen an absolute free hand at the Works takes everything he says for gospel. He probably " "Don't you fool yourself, V.V.! Heth's too smart a man to turn over his principal business to anybody. And I'm sick and tried of jollying with him. Say, remember that letter you wrote in the 'Post' last fall?"
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